


If I Was The Sun, He Was The Moon

by endless_grey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Apologies, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inter-House Unity, Light Angst, M/M, Party Games, Pining, Post-War, Quidditch, Rivalry, Semi-Public Sex, Spin the Bottle, Switching, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endless_grey/pseuds/endless_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is in his eighth year at Hogwarts, everyone is still feeling the fallout from the war and since all the eighth years now share a common room and dorms, Hermione had the brilliant idea that they should get to know each other better. In amongst bad party games, copious amounts of firewhisky, and a lot of confusion and mixed signals, Harry realises he likes Draco. Not everyone is happy about that, though. </p><p>In summary: Draco and Harry kiss during spin the bottle, realise their feelings, are stubborn and oblivious, and can't seem to communicate like normal people, but it works out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Was The Sun, He Was The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Some minor warnings for alcohol use, boys being stupid, lowkey fighting, and highkey loving. This fic was both super fun and made me want to rip my hair out at times, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I also don't have a beta, so as much as I triple checked it, I apologize if there are any typos or mistakes.

 

Harry walked slowly along the corridor, gazing at where jagged holes had replaced the intricate brickwork, and where windows had become nothing but frames, shards of coloured glass tinkling like hail to the floor beneath them. He could remember it all so clearly, how the castle had become a mere shell of itself in the War, how the damage had seemed irreparable. Yet here he was, back for his final year in Hogwarts, what the students and teachers had called ‘8th year’, and the castle almost looked no different from how it had looked when he first started school at eleven.

The repair to the school had given him the chance to look at it with fresh eyes, just as he had when he had first started. The gazes of amazement at the high ceilings, the portraits murmuring around him, magic filling the very air. It was almost as though he was looking for scars on the walls, looking for evidence that the battle had happened here. As much as the War had left scars on every individual person, it seemed the castle had escaped mostly unscathed in the long run. The portraits had hidden, some frames had been destroyed and so they were living permanently with friends, and they all had stories of the things they’d seen, happy to tell anyone who would listen about the horrors that they had lived through and the brave Harry Potter. Other than that, and the slightly hallowed feel the corridors sometimes held, it was only the people inhabiting the castle that bore the scars of the war.

The school had been reopened now for four months, a long enough time for him to reacclimatise to being back here and to start making peace with the memories and the nightmares the castle now held. He still had bad days, as did many of the students and teachers who had come back, memories of all the lives lost in the very corridors and grounds they walk through, memories of seeing loved ones on the floor of the Great Hall they ate all their meals in. Recovering from something as big as what they had all been through was a gradual process, and Harry expected it to be something that they would all bear forever, but also work through together.

Working through things together had become even easier since McGonagall had announced at the first feast of the year that all of the returning students would be sharing a common room and dorms for their eighth year. At first, there had been protest (particularly from Ron, with his magnitude of Gryffindor pride) but it had made sense. There were less of them than in any other year, some of them had been lost, others had chosen not to come back for various reasons. So they were given a tower to themselves.

 

* * *

 

As Harry arrived at the door to the common room, he whispered the password, and the heavy door creaked open. When he had first walked into the shared common room, he had been unsure. It wasn’t red like he was used to, and it wasn’t any Gryffindor tower. Instead, the furniture and drapes were a mixture of colours, quite dark and muted, but the room made up for that with the open fires at either end of the circular room and the tall windows that let in a lot of light during the day, and were covered in cosy velvet drapes at night. As far as common rooms went, it was comfortable, but it still didn’t quite feel like home yet.

In the year prior to Hogwarts reopening, Harry had been living at the Burrow with Ron and Hermione. Hermione hadn’t had a home to go back to, and was working on a way to reverse the obliviate she had used on her parents, and Ron tried to help his family feel as normal as possible without Fred. Harry on the other hand, had felt slightly outside the loop the whole time. He didn’t want to go to Grimmauld Place, it held too many memories of Order Of The Phoenix meetings and the life he could have had with Sirius, and yet at the Weasley’s he was still faced with the reality that people had died for him. It wasn’t even as if he had his relationship with Ginny to keep things bright, as that had fizzled out almost as soon as it had started. They had realised that with the new liberation that came from not having the threat of death, they no longer felt like there was any pressure to make something of their relationship and that they were better off as friends. Harry was happy things had remained good between them, and Ginny was still there for him as a brilliant friend even in those first months when both of them were struggling under the weight of the fallout from the war.

He had still felt like he was an imposter on their pain though, no matter how many times Ron and Hermione told him they would be struggling far more if the three of them were not together. He had to admit though; part of why he stayed was purely selfish, these people made him feel more at home than any place other than the Gryffindor tower had. Maybe it was because back then things had been easier, before everything with Voldemort had reached its pinnacle. It was in the Gryffindor dorms that he got his first taste of what it felt like to belong, to have friends, to have a family, and that was why it would always hold a special place in his heart.

He walked into the open space of the common room and found his favourite seat in front of the open fire. Yes, it was comfortable here, but not home.

 

* * *

 

He was in the middle of getting highly exasperated with his charms homework when Hermione and Ron came into the common room, hand in hand. It was still something he had to get used to, but he was incredibly happy for them, and thankfully nothing had changed in their friendships.  
“Harry! ‘Mione came up with a bloody brilliant idea!”  
Hermione blushed as she sat down on the chair next to Harry’s, Ron unceremoniously dumping himself into the small gap left on her chair.  
“Oh yeah?” Harry enquired, he was happy to have a distraction from his homework to be honest.  
“I was thinking we could have a game night once a week or something?” Hermione suggested. “I think it’ll be good for everyone, and a good way to get to know each other”.  
Harry nodded, but he wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was really. As much as everyone was civil with each other, most of them weren’t really _friends_. Most people still stuck to their old houses, or stuck with the friends they’d already made. In particular the Slytherins who had returned kept very much to themselves.

Harry remembered being very surprised when he witnessed Zabini, Parkinson, and Malfoy walk through the doors of the castle, ready for their last year of school. Of course, there had been whispers, that their family names were ruined and their fortunes in shreds and all they had left was to get the grades they needed. Harry wasn’t ever sure what to believe, and he made no effort to find out or understand. He had testified at Malfoy’s trial, to save him and Narcissa Malfoy from Azkaban. Malfoy may be a git, but he was no hardened criminal. Harry had seen too much to truly believe that he belonged in Azkaban. After that day in Malfoy Manor when he refused to identify Harry to Bellatrix, thereby saving his life, Harry knew Malfoy wasn’t as evil as he’d always thought. That did not mean, however, that Harry was interested in the idea of playing party games with him. He was nasty and self-absorbed, and not someone Harry particularly wanted to get to know any more than seeing him across the common room, or occasionally passing him in the halls. Parkinson and Zabini were just as bad, if not worse, and the idea of “game nights” with anyone was enough to put a scowl on Harry’s face.

“Do you not think it’s a good idea?” Hermione asked, she looked a little downtrodden already.  
“You do?” Harry asked. “You don’t think there will be any issues in forcing people together, especially _them_ ” he nodded towards the corner the former Slytherins usually resided in.  
“I think people need to get over what happened in the war” Hermione said surely. She had that determined look on her face that Harry knew meant the decision had been made either way.

“And you, what do you think about this?” Harry demanded, turning to Ron.  
“’Mione’s persuasive” He shrugged. “It does kinda make sense, we’re with them all for the rest of the year, may as well make the best of it”  
Harry was bewildered. Ron was the last person he’d ever think would agree to something as ridiculous as playing _party games_ with _Slytherins_. Maybe ‘Mione was even more persuasive than he thought.  
“You’re honestly telling me you want to become pals with them?” Harry demanded, his voice rising. “After everything? And Malfoy’s a prat, you know that better than most” He glared at them pointedly. Hermione was frowning at him disapprovingly.  
“You know what, Harry, I think you should know better than most that people need to move on” She said, “They have come back to learn just like us and do you know what they’ve had to put up with being back here? I’m pretty sure they know what they did was wrong.”  
Harry scowled and sighed with exasperation.  
“Fine. Have the stupid game nights, see if I care.”

And with that he got up and walked towards the dorms. It was even worse when he caught a glimpse of Hermione and Ron out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t even looking at him with anger or irritation, but with concern, and that made Harry even angrier than he already was. He ground his teeth and stomped into the dorm, slamming the door behind him. These stupid games nights were going to crash and burn, and for all he cared, he would just watch it happen.

 

* * *

 

It was the next evening when Hermione announced the plans for the stupid games night.  
“I was thinking we could have a games night once a week” She announced. Almost all twenty of the eighth years were in the common room, and their eyes all shifted to Hermione and the muted conversations halted. There was a moment of silence before anyone said anything and then Seamus was piping up.  
“Will there be alcohol?” There were murmurs of agreement around the room.  
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about-“  
“I can get firewhisky” A quiet voice said. Everyone turned around to look at the owner of the voice. Malfoy was sat in the corner of the room looking at his nails like he hadn’t just spoken.  
“I can get a lot, too” He added.  
There was a murmur of conversation around the room.  
“Sounds good to me” Seamus said cheerily, clapping his hands together. Harry couldn’t believe that yet another friend of his was going along with this.  
“I guess it could be fun” Dean agreed.  
Eventually everyone had slowly agreed until there was only one corner of the room that stayed silent. Everyone looked at the former Slytherins speculatively, apprehensive of both their rejection and their inclusion.  
“Okay” Parkinson said finally, and Zabini nodded beside her. It was now only Harry who hadn’t explicitly said yes or no to the games night plan, but of course, being Harry Potter meant he was assumed included until he said otherwise, and he couldn’t really be bothered with speaking up right now. Only Ron and Hermione were watching him cautiously, and he purposely didn’t meet their eyes.

 

* * *

 

Approximately nineteen hours later they were all sat in the common room trying to decide what game to spend the evening playing. Harry hadn’t even had time to be that nervous. It had seemed like one moment he was listening to Hermione pitching her idea to him, and the next moment there they were arguing in a shared common room. Malfoy had stayed true to his promise of firewhisky, and glasses were already being passed round. Malfoy politely, and even jokingly, avoiding revealing the firewhisky source. Harry was almost tempted to question the legitimacy of the firewhisky, but he knew it’d only get him in trouble with everyone, so he grudgingly kept his mouth shut.  
“I think we should start with something simple” Seamus announced, once everyone had a glass.  
“Truth or dare!”  
There was excited chatter from everyone, but Harry felt dread. Who knew what kind of things this would dreg up? As much as Hermione had aimed for this to be an exercise in acceptance and getting to know one another, there were certain things that Harry thought were better left in the past, or better not knowing at all.

Unfortunately, as soon as the suggestion for truth or dare had been announced, everyone had agreed, and Harry was being dragged to sit down in the rough circle that was being formed. He found himself sitting next to Luna, who was definitely not an eighth year.  
“What are you doing here?” He asked, wincing at how his agitation had made the innocent question sound. Luna, being Luna, didn’t seem to notice and smiled at him serenely.  
“I wanted to join in, you guys understand me more than most after everything” She smiled wider. Harry felt a little like an arsehole at Luna’s words. She was right after all, he was currently surrounded by people who, in one way or another, had gone through the same trauma together, and he was making little effort to bother with Hermione’s plan to solidify them.

His guilt at not wanting to join in was short lived though, especially when he caught Malfoy smirking at something Zabini had said. He didn’t know what it was about Malfoy that made him so angry. Everything he did, the stupid haughty expressions on his face, the sneers, and the comments he used to make back before the war had even started. Everything about the prat ran Harry up the wrong way, made him more furious than anyone else could. It got even worse once the game started.

“Malfoy, truth or dare” Hermione asked. Everyone seemed surprised that she had gone straight for one of the difficult members of the group.  
“Truth”  
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, and whispered something to Ron before setting Malfoy with a sure gaze.  
“What is your biggest regret?”  
“Well don’t start too big, Granger” Malfoy drawled sarcastically. Hermione didn’t respond, she just watched him with that steely glare, as if daring him to mess this up.  
“I think we all know what my biggest regret is” Malfoy sniffed, folding his arms resolutely across his chest. It was an action Harry was sure was intended to make him seem closed off, untouchable, and unfazed, but instead it made him look vulnerable. He knew Hermione had hit a sensitive nerve.  
“You need to answer her question, Malfoy” Harry glared. He hadn’t thought about it before saying it, and now all eyes were on him. He wasn’t sure what he intended to get from pushing Malfoy for an answer, perhaps he wanted to hear that he regretted the things that happened, or maybe he just wanted to see Malfoy put in a difficult position for once.  
“Are you seeking to humiliate me, Potter?” Malfoy questioned, raising his eyebrow in that snooty, know-it-all way he did.  
“You need to answer the question, that’s the point of the game.” Harry ground out. In for a knut, in for a galleon. Now he had started, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to back out of this first.  
“My biggest regret is that I allowed myself to make bad decisions, to be strong armed into becoming a death eater, taking the mark, all the mistakes I made… Need I go on, Potter? Are you satisfied? Please, let me continue and fuel your perfect ego, after you you’ve never made a mistake have you? Perfect Potter, would you like me to bow to you as well? Or do you only see people as fit for you if they’re risking their lives?”

The room was silent, eyes flicking between Harry and Malfoy, even Hermione looked shocked.  
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes, Malfoy. Maybe saving your pathetic arse is one of them” Harry spat. There was a gasp, but he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were glued to Malfoy’s. He saw a flicker of something pass over Malfoy’s face, maybe it was pain? Embarrassment? Regret? The next moment Malfoy’s face was smooth and emotionless again, and he stood, brushing his robes off carefully, before silently heading towards the dorms.

“How dare you!” Parkinson snarled. She was trying to get up, but Zabini had a hand on her arm and was holding her back. She looked like she was prepared to hex Harry to hell and back. Zabini was pulling at her arm and muttering in her ear, and then she was sneering at Harry before turning in a whirl of robes and heading in the same direction Malfoy had just gone, Zabini following closely after her.

It was only at that moment that Harry realised the shit he was going to be in for that. One quick glance around the circle and he was met by shell shocked looks from everyone. Hermione, he noted, looked disappointed.  
“I have to go” He muttered, and quickly got to his feet.  
“Harry, wait!” Ron called, but Harry was already half way to the common room door. He didn’t bother replying before he was shutting the door behind him and rushing down the hallway.

When he stopped speed walking his way through the halls of the castle, he found he’d ended up in the prefect’s bathroom. Why was it always the prefect’s bathroom? He realised he was breathing heavily; adrenaline coursing through his veins and regret deep in his being. What he’d said was not only awful, but also completely untrue. He’d known as soon as the words had left his mouth. His heart had hit his throat, and he’d got that horrible clench in his stomach that always came whenever he did something he really fucking regretted. It had come when he’d fought with Ron, it’d come when he and Ron had upset Hermione, and it was here now.

He leant his head against the wall and slammed his fist into it, before immediately swearing. Hopefully that wasn’t broken. He didn’t need any other reasons to make Hermione disappointed with him. What was it about Malfoy that made him act this way? Ron had joked in the past that Malfoy could get under Harry’s skin better than anyone else, and he’d hated that it was true. He hated that he’d seen Malfoy at his most vulnerable, and he hated that Malfoy was human and that he saw that since the war. He hated that with a smirk Malfoy could set his heart racing and his fists clenching. He hated that even after everything Malfoy was still the pointy, arrogant, smarmy git he’d always been. And he hated that even with all the reasons Harry had to hate him, he couldn’t make himself believe it.

 

* * *

 

He had managed to avoid everyone that night, only returning to the common room late enough that he was sure everyone would already be asleep. When he had arrived he had found Hermione and Ron fast asleep on one of the sofas in front of the fading embers of the fire, obviously having intended to stay up until he got back. He felt his heart clench a little, he had let them down and been completely awful, and yet here they were, always there for him. He knew he owed them an apology, and also, he supposed Malfoy, but that wasn’t going to happen. He had cast a clumsy healing charm on his hand, which was thankfully only a bit swollen and bruised, before heading up to the dorm. He levitated Hermione, and then Ron into Ron’s bed. It was the least he owed them to let them get a good night’s sleep.

Harry lay in bed for a good hour before sleep finally took him, rethinking through the evening, the brief look of hurt on Malfoy’s face after the comment he had made, and he fell asleep with Malfoy’s face still strong behind his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The next morning walking down from the dorms to the common room, Harry had anxiety twisting itself through his gut. He knew he was going to face the music eventually, and sooner rather than later. He didn’t know if it would be worse when he first came face to face with Malfoy or when he had the inevitable conversation he knew was coming with Ron and Hermione.

It was Ron and Hermione he found first, they were waiting for him in the common room, ready to go down to breakfast.  
“Hey mate, how are you doing?” Ron asked, he had that sympathetic look on his face that Harry hated being on the receiving end of.  
“I’m fine. Hermione, I’m sorry for ruining your plans” He said. He really was sorry, and the last thing he wanted was for them to give him sympathy or pity when he had been the one that had been horrible.  
“You don’t need to apologize to me” She answered. He knew what she was saying, but he really didn’t want to be the one to face Malfoy, and be the one to say sorry first. He knew he was being childish, somehow Malfoy always brought out the worst in him.  
“I don’t want to talk to him” Harry said, stubbornly.  
“You’re going to have to face him at some point, Harry”  
“I know, but let’s pretend I won’t” He replied. “Come on, we should go to breakfast”  
Hermione sighed, but relented. He knew she wouldn’t leave it alone forever, but at least this gave him some thinking space.

It was at breakfast that he first saw Malfoy, much sooner than he expected. He, Parkinson and Zabini were sat at the Slytherin table again, something they hadn’t done since the first week of eighth year. Usually the eighth years all sat together at a separate table, especially for them. Hermione had followed Harry’s gaze and was looking concerned again.  
“I didn’t realise my plan would push us further apart” She exclaimed, looking pained.  
“It didn’t, ‘Mione, it was me” Harry insisted, but Hermione still looked upset.  
He looked up again, and caught Malfoys eye. Again that flash of emotion passed over his features, before he schooled them in and gave Harry a sneer before going back to his coffee. For some reason, Harry couldn’t look away as Malfoy sipped delicately on his coffee, the jug of it floating right beside him, ready to refill his cup whenever it was empty.

He witnessed Malfoy drink three cups of coffee before he, Zabini and Parkinson left the great hall, and really, who needed _three_ cups of coffee in the morning?  
“You’re doing it again, Harry” Ron whispered, stirring Harry from his contemplations on why on earth anyone would need that much caffeine.  
“Doing what?”  
“Staring at Malfoy” Ron answered. Harry turned to glare at him, and Ron put his hands up defensively.  
“Hey, I’m just saying what I’m seeing, mate. This better not be another sixth year coming on where you won’t leave the bugger alone”  
“I’m not staring, Ron, and in sixth year he was actually up to something, so it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Harry whispered back angrily.  
“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m telling you, you were staring” Ron stated, turning to join Seamus’s conversation before Harry could reply. Harry finished eating his breakfast silently, fuming on the inside. He didn’t _stare_ at Malfoy, sure he noticed him a lot, but that’s just habit after all the trouble Malfoy got up to in past. Right?

 

* * *

 

Evidently, Hermione had started something when she suggested they have a games night, because not three days after the first failed attempt, Seamus was organising another with Dean’s help. This time apparently, they were going to play something ‘more light-hearted’, and according to Dean that meant spin the bottle. The first game of truth or dare had dissipated as soon as Harry and Malfoy had left, no one had been in the mood to play games after that, the mood had been well and truly killed. The aim with spin the bottle as the game choice was that it avoided any big secrets and deep confessions coming to light in a pressured environment, instead they could get to know each other in another way.

Harry was definitely worried about this one, maybe even more worried than he would have been had they been playing truth or dare again. He knew about the rules of spin the bottle, and they’d had to be retold to all the purebloods in the group who had never played the muggle game. You have to kiss whoever the bottle lands on when it’s your turn to spin, simple as that. Except it wasn’t simple, what if he had to kiss someone he didn’t like? What if he had to kiss someone and everyone realised how inexperienced he was, he had only kissed Cho and Ginny before. His nerves were only slightly soothed by the firewhisky Malfoy had provided again, and after watching the people ahead of him play (Seamus had to kiss Dean, they both looked pleased) he was even more anxious.

He wouldn’t have played if he hadn’t felt he owed it to Hermione and Ron, and everyone else really, to be a bigger part of this unity attempt. He had felt so guilty after what had happened that he knew he had to at least prove he was trying, and the only way he saw that happening was by taking part in this ridiculous game night plan that clearly wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Somehow, someone had managed to get the former Slytherins to join too, maybe by guilting them into the unity movement in the same way Harry felt pressured to join in. They didn’t look particularly happy to be there either, and when Harry had inevitably met Malfoys eyes, he had seen nothing but annoyance.

This was not the situation Harry had anticipated coming face to face with Malfoy in after what had transpired last game. He had expected it to be in class, or a sneer in the halls, or a sniggered insult floating down the hall after him. Instead, Malfoy had completely ignored him. It was strange, not at all what would have happened before the war. Before the war Malfoy would have made Harry’s life hell for the comment he had made, he would have made sure that Harry regretted ever saying it. Thing is, that was easy for Harry to deal with, he was used to that reaction. A Malfoy that turned the other cheek, who didn’t fight back, was not at all what Harry was used to. Maybe this was a sign that Malfoy _had_ changed. Or maybe he had lost all the fight in him.

“Harry, it’s your turn!” someone called excitedly. Everyone was watching him eagerly, wanting to know who would end up kissing the chosen one. People had nagged him about finding someone, but he’d always been too busy with stuff like, you know, killing Voldemort. It just meant that people were extra interested to set him up or see things happen. For some reason it was always that way when someone hadn’t been with anyone for a while, people became strangely invested in your love life.

Harry took a deep breath and lowered his hand to the bottle. He noticed how everyone’s eyes followed the movement with bated breathe. He didn’t like being the centre of attention at the best of times, but especially not now. His hands were sweaty with nerves and slipped on the bottle as he gripped it. When he eventually flicked his wrist and set the bottle spinning, it was like time had slowed. He watched every turn the bottle made, it felt like it was spinning forever. Every time the Ogden’s firewhisky logo righted itself in front of him before twisting away, he knew he was getting closer and closer to the moment he was dreading. It got even worse the more the bottle slowed. He was internally begging the bottle to stop pointing on someone he at least got on with. If it was Hermione, sure it would be awkward, but they were friends, they could just laugh it off. Or Luna, that wouldn’t be too bad, Luna was a good friend and very sweet, she wouldn’t be horrible. The bottle slowed dangerously, and for a moment he was sure it was going to land on Parkinson. His heart was slamming in his chest, and for someone who had fought arguably the darkest Wizard ever to roam the earth, he was way too anxious about kissing someone. The bottle slide to a stop slowly, and it was pointing, unmistakably, at Malfoy’s knee. Everyone collectively snapped their heads up to look at the expressions on Harry and Malfoy’s faces. This was possibly the worst person in the entire group Harry could have had to kiss.

He stared at the bottle a fraction of a second longer than was necessary, partially hoping that it would spontaneously start moving again and point at someone else, partially because it meant that he could avoid the reality of what he would have to do. He was half tempted to refuse, but he knew that that would mean Malfoy had won. He wasn’t going to be the one to show weakness. What would people think if he was the one to back out? They’d think he was scared (which he was), and he couldn’t be seen as scared of anything to do with sodding Malfoy.

He raised his eyes defiantly, though he could feel his palms sweating even more, and he was sure if he held his hand out, it would be shaking. Grey eyes were watching him levelly from across the circle, almost contemplatively. He couldn’t read Malfoy, he couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he freaking out as much as Harry was? He must still be furious, too.

The rest of the group had remained silent throughout Harry’s few seconds of panic. Even without taking his eyes of Malfoy’s, he could see their gazes flicking between the two of them, waiting to see what would happen next. Malfoy’s eyes were so _searching_ , like they were trying to read into Harry’s very soul, into things Harry didn’t even know about himself. His gaze was so electric; there was something about it that Harry couldn’t look away from. Maybe it was because he knew what was about to conspire between them, or maybe Malfoy had always been like this and he’d never had cause to realise before. He tried to force his expression into a sneer, and Malfoy’s mouth twitched. Then he was _smirking_ at Harry, like he was in on a joke Harry wasn’t, like he had no fears in the world about the situation.

It was that smirk which caused what happened next. Harry wanted to hex that stupid smirk off Malfoy’s face, or even resort to muggle means and _punch_ it off his face. See him try to smirk with a split lip. Instead, he did the only thing he could do in that moment, and surged across the circle towards Malfoys stupid, smirking face. He heard the gasp from the group, and it would have been funny if he wasn’t so focused on the widening of those grey eyes, the smile falling slack on his lips, and his hands coming up almost defensively. Suddenly he was right there, just an inch from Malfoy, and he was sure they’d never been this close before. Even in the Manor, under those circumstances, when Malfoy had saved his life, it hadn’t been this close. He could see the pores in Malfoy’s skin, he could see how the skin that usually looked flawless from a distances had blemishes. He had a small scar on his cheekbone, so small you wouldn’t see it unless you were this close. Harry could see that the eyes that usually looked slate grey were silver flecked, and so bright they were almost luminous. He could fucking drown in eyes like that. It was things like this which made Malfoy more human, more touchable, and took down that impenetrable façade he maintained all the time. He was looking as human as Harry had ever seen him right now; he looked flustered for maybe the first time he had ever witnessed.

Harry felt his own lips pull into a smirk, and he felt powerful, causing Malfoy to look like this. Malfoy’s eyes flicked down to Harry’s smirk, and that was all it took before Harry was lowering his mouth to Malfoys. He had aimed to be aggressive, prove something, prove that he wasn’t scared and that he was in control, try and get the rise from Malfoy that he had expected as soon as that comment during truth or dare had been uttered. Instead, their lips met almost sweetly, Malfoy’s breath ghosting over Harry’s lips as Harry instinctively reached up to cup Malfoy’s jaw. Malfoy’s lips were so soft, and so warm, which was so huge a contrast to the Malfoy who walked the halls. That Malfoy always seemed so cold and stony, and yet here he was, lips gentle and pliable and fitting against Harry’s so well. Their lips parted slightly almost simultaneously, and he didn’t know who did it first, but then there was a tentative touch of tongues and Harry was moving his hands up to Malfoy’s hair. He wanted to take him apart, take apart the façade, and even mussing his stupid, perfect hair felt like a start. Malfoy responded to Harry’s touch so well, shy fingers grazing Harry’s waist as they kissed.

He had never felt anything like this, kissing Cho and Ginny had been a speck on his life in comparison to this kiss. He didn’t even know kissing could be like this. He felt like he was on fire, consumed by the feeling of Malfoy’s lips moving against his. He was reluctant to move back when he started running out of air, and kept his fingers twined in Malfoys hair as their lips separated. They were both breathing heavily, watching each other with wide eyes and red lips, and Harry’s heart was hammering again, but no longer with nerves or anger. Then just as fast as it had started, the moment was broken, and Harry was pulling away gasping and wondering what the fuck had just happened. No one was speaking, too shocked to have anything to say. Malfoy was staring back at him, grey eyes readable for the first time, and Harry could see the same things passing through his expression as Harry was experiencing. Mainly confusion.

In retrospect, he never expected to end up in the middle of a group of fellow war survivors, kneeling in front of his enemy with kiss reddened lips and a heart threatening to beat its way out of his ribs. It was normal to be confused, right?

Harry shuffled backwards across the circle as fast as he could and dumped himself back in his spot, Luna patting his leg comfortingly. Everyone remained silent, staring between the Harry and Malfoy. He wasn’t sure anyone had anticipated any of what had just happened, they had probably expected a fight. Ron, being the brilliant friend he is, cleared his throat.  
“Well, uh, I guess, well done Harry, that’s your turn done” He looked around the group “Um, I guess it’s my turn now. I think”

The rest of the game passed without incident, neither Harry nor Malfoy had to kiss anyone else. Dean and Seamus kissed for a second time, and Harry was sure something was going on there. He couldn’t take his mind off Malfoy long enough to think about it too much though. Every time he licked his lips he could taste Malfoy on them, he could still feel the strands of Malfoys hair between his fingers, and he could still smell Malfoy’s cologne in his nose. How was he meant to even look at Malfoy anymore now he knew how those lips felt under his, or how he had that tiny scar on his seemingly perfect skin? Harry was fucked.

Ron and Hermione were looking at him in a way that suggested that they knew something he didn’t. Credit to Ron, he also looked bemused, which was more the reaction Harry expected. Hermione also had that look on her face that meant they were having a serious chat later; again, Harry had expected that.

As the group disbanded for the night, Harry didn’t move. His mind was too busy replaying his kiss with Malfoy on repeat. He could see Malfoy eyeing him from across the room as he got up and started walking towards the dorm, but Harry purposely resisted looking up. Ron and Hermione hung around with him until everyone had left, the talk was going to happen sooner than expected.  
“What the bloody hell was that!?” Ron always got straight to the point.  
“I don’t know” Harry replied, honestly.  
“You don’t know?” Ron sounded bewildered. “How can you not know? You kissed the git!”  
“Keep your voice down, Ron!” Harry hissed. He suddenly felt very exposed and embarrassed; he could feel his cheeks heating up with each word. It was like talking about it suddenly made the whole thing seem more real.  
“Why do I need to keep my voice down? Everyone already knows it happened, they kinda saw it first-hand. Right there” He pointed to where Malfoy had been sitting. “You were going for it too, I doubt anyone will forget that. You even messed up his hair, I can’t believe he let you mess up his hai-“  
“Ron, could you maybe stop talking do you think?” Harry said calmly. Ron was immediately quiet. Harry was the type to explode, if he was ever deathly quiet, it meant it was serious.  
“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asked gently. She was much more tactful that Ron was. She also knew when and what to say.  
“I’m fine. I think” Harry replied.

In all honesty, he was confused and slightly freaking out about the whole situation. He didn’t know what had possessed him to do it, originally it had been to try to prove a point, but even that was a flimsy excuse at best as to why someone would kiss their supposed enemy. Who kisses someone to prove a point? Apparently Harry. The problem was, he hadn’t counted on liking it quite so much. He’d enjoyed that one kiss more than he’d ever dare to admit, even to Ron and Hermione. Even to himself. The situation was dangerous; he felt like in that one kiss he’d broken the fundamental basis of his entire view on Malfoy, his entire view on their behaviour to one another. How were you meant to act when you’ve just kissed someone you don’t like and enjoyed it more than any other intimacy you’ve ever experienced? He couldn’t just carry on behaving like they had before.

Harry frowned, his head was a mess. Maybe it was just the firewhisky and the fact it was late that was making him feel like this. He probably just needed a good night sleep.  
“As long as you’re sure you’re okay, Harry” Hermione said. Her face was clouded with concern again.  
“I’m fine, ‘Mione” Harry reassured. “I just need some sleep”  
“Okay. Also, you know you can talk to us, right? About anything” Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and as much as he appreciated the gesture, he really wasn’t feeling like having a heart to heart.  
“Of course I do, but I’m okay ‘Mione, honestly. You and Ron don’t have to worry”  
He got up and stretched.  
“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” He added, before slowly heading up to the dorm.

He was half expecting to be lying there tossing and turning with the amount of thoughts rushing through his head, but he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. His sleep was restless though, full of grey eyes and soft lips and sighed breaths that he would disregard as nonsense in the morning.

 

* * *

 

The morning came with no new revelations on the incidents of last night, only more uncertainty. Harry was convinced not to let something as insignificant as a kiss during a game of spin the bottle effect his day, but clearly that was easier said than done.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at breakfast, Harry tried to distract himself talking to Seamus and Dean about the upcoming quidditch game. Eighth years were not allowed to play in official school teams, but they had collectively persuaded McGonagall to let them have allotted times on the pitch so they could hold their own eighth year games. Quidditch was something they all took very serious, and it was exactly what Harry needed to take his mind off of everything.

He was so involved in the conversation he almost didn’t notice when Malfoy and the other former Slytherin’s entered the hall, taking a seat at the other end of the table. Almost.  
“They’re sitting at our table again, that’s good” Hermione said quietly.  
“Maybe Harry was so good at kissing, Malfoy made them come back” Seamus joked. He and Dean were sniggering knowingly.  
“Oi, leave Harry alone” Ron interjected. “I’m sure Harry doesn’t want you two making fun of him. Especially since you weren’t much better, you both went for each other as well!”  
“That’s why it’s so funny, Ron” Seamus said, smiling slyly. “You see, me and Dean have had a revelation”  
“Oh really?”  
“Yes, last night made us realise we like each other quite a lot, if you know what I mean” He smirked at Dean and raised an eyebrow. Dean at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  
“Wow mate, I’m happy for you two, but stop there, I don’t need to know details” Ron laughed.

Soon everyone was chatting excitedly about Seamus and Dean’s new boyfriend status, but Harry was seething at what Seamus had implied. Did they really think he liked Malfoy like that? I mean, he’d liked the kiss, but that was just because it was a good kiss, right? Nothing more to it. It definitely wasn’t because it was Malfoy. Anyone would react to a good kiss no matter who it was from. I mean, it’s not like Harry hadn’t noticed that Malfoy had become quite attractive, but he didn’t fancy the prat. He and Malfoy didn’t get on, that’s how it had always been. They just didn’t like each other.

 

* * *

 

Harry was reminded a few days later at their quidditch game why he didn’t like Malfoy. He had managed to avoid Malfoy for three days, not wanting to have to deal with him, or the weirdness that would undoubtedly lie between them now. He had been thinking about that kiss a lot though, and he couldn’t help looking over at Malfoy whenever they were in the same room. It had been stolen glances in the common room, marvelling at the way the fire danced off Malfoy’s silvery hair, making it glow. Or the way he held himself, smaller than he used to, like he wasn’t interested in drawing attention to himself anymore, but still with dignity and posture. Or how his fingers moved surely when he cast a charm, and confidently when he made a move during wizard chess with Zabini. Really, he was looking for any sign that Malfoy was uncomfortable too, or at least confused too, or whether he was angry at all. However, he seemed annoyingly unaffected as far as Harry could tell. Occasionally Harry would feel like eyes were on him, but he’d never caught Malfoy looking.

So that day on the quidditch pitch when Ron turned and caught him watching Malfoy during a team huddle before the game, he was suitably annoyed.  
“Mate, stop staring at Malfoy, we have a game to win!”  
“I’m not!” Harry insisted, even though he clearly had been. Ron looked at him dubiously.  
He made a mental note to stop looking; he wouldn’t let Malfoy ruin quidditch for him too.

It was all going very well once Harry was in the air, the feeling of the polished wood under his hands, wind rushing against his skin. He could smell that fresh, tangy smell of quidditch pitch after rain, the air still damp around him. It was exhilarating to be back in air. It was doing him good, feeling the bite of the wind on his face as he circled the pitch looking for the snitch. His team was doing well so far, he just had to focus on finishing the game while they were ahead.

Malfoy suddenly whipped past him in a flash of green and silver, and Harry was instinctively zipping after him, after the assumed snitch. He followed Malfoy closely, slowly catching up to him until they were neck and neck. Harry saw the snitch then, just up ahead of them, and cursed himself for letting Malfoy notice it sooner. He would just have to try harder now, not let himself get distracted by anything. It was of course, at that moment that he glanced over at Malfoy. He saw, almost as if in slow motion, him wetting his lips. It was a slow drag of tongue across the pink, wind-bitten skin leaving them shiny. Harry faltered, for less than a second, but it was long enough. He looked on in horror as Malfoy reached out, his fingers grazing the golden ball, before grasping it surely.

Harry could hear the echoes of cheers from Malfoy’s team around him and the groans of defeat from his own team, but he was suspended in the air in shock. He was ninety nine percent sure his mouth was handing open dumbly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Malfoy had actually beaten him to the snitch. Harry had lost to Malfoy because he had _licked his lips_.

Harry watched Malfoy holding the snitch in air victoriously, smiling wider than he’d ever seen Malfoy smile before. In the next moment, Malfoy was looking at Harry, triumph glowing in his eyes and then suddenly he was winking and Harry had never been more furious. His jaw snapped shut immediately and he was ready to yell, but Malfoy was already flying down towards his team, leaving Harry static in the air, rage and panic coiling in his stomach. Why did Malfoy affect him like this? This is why Harry didn’t like him.

By the time Harry had made it to the ground, he felt like he could snap his broom from how hard he was gripping it.  
“What happened up there? You never lose to Malfoy!” Neville exclaimed.  
“Maybe he was distracted” Dean suggested. Seamus was smirking, hand around Dean’s waist.  
Harry really didn’t want to talk about this, especially when Seamus and Dean were looking at him like that. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, he needed some time to think.  
“I have to go, I’m not really in the mood to talk about it” Harry said tightly. He turned swiftly and started walking towards the castle. He needed to find Hermione. He could hear the rest of the team wondering loudly what had gotten into him, and he was wondering that himself. He glanced over towards the other team and saw Malfoy standing in the middle of them, soaking up their cheers and excited chatter. He looked up at Harry just as he got to the edge of the pitch and their eyes met, Malfoy’s face dropped a little when he saw the look on Harry’s. Harry didn’t take the time to ponder how he must have looked or the fact that he had been so transparent, instead he just walked faster. Hermione would know what to say.

 

* * *

 

“Hermione, I think I fancy Malfoy” Harry said in a rush, as soon as he had found her. She was sat in her usual seat in the library, surrounded by books and parchment. She looked up quickly, her bushy hair bouncing with the motion.  
“Oh finally” She replied, dismissively, smoothing out the papers in front of her.  
“Hermione, I’m having a crisis! I don’t even think I like him but I- wait, what do you mean ‘finally’”  
“I mean finally in the way that I’ve been waiting for that admission for, hmm” she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “About three years”  
Harry stared at her wide eyed, did everyone seem to know apart from him?  
“But I-“  
“Oh Harry, you always watch him and follow what he’s doing, and everything is Malfoy this and Malfoy that. You’re a little obsessed” she said matter-of-factly. “Also, have you never wondered why he winds you up so much? I’m pretty sure it’s because you couldn’t decide whether you fancied him or hated him more” She continued. “Maybe you still don’t”  
Harry was still staring at Hermione in shock. Everything she was saying was true, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. He didn’t even really know Malfoy though, beyond what he’d seen on a daily basis in school, of which none was very good.

“Look, you don’t like the fact that you’re attracted to him, even when he’s acting like a git, so you get angry and defensive” Hermione announced.  
“But I- I don’t- It’s not-“ Harry spluttered. Hermione was right. Shit.  
“You need to stop denying it, it’s not healthy, Harry” Hermione said. “Ron and I have been wondering for a while how long it would take you to say something. Although Ron is also a little in denial” She frowned.  
Oh great, apparently even Ron had noticed, and Ron could be a little oblivious to these things. Harry was also amazed that Ron hadn’t straight out asked him yet, hoping to disprove it.  
“But how was I meant to say something when I’m not even sure-“  
“Because it’s obvious, Harry! Anyone who is close enough friends with you knows already” Hermione said, looking back down at her parchment.  
“Anyway, you haven’t seen the way he looks at you” she added, slyly.

 

* * *

 

Harry walked away feeling a little dazed. He had spent the last fifteen minutes grilling Hermione on how, exactly, Malfoy looked at him.  
‘Like the sun has come out’ she had said. ‘Also like he’d like to get you on the nearest flat surface’ she had added. She’d hardly even blushed saying the last bit, and had even looked a bit smug. Harry wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with this new information. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed Malfoy looking at him quite often, but he had just assumed that was contempt or dislike, not this. Whatever this was. Apparently Malfoy liked him. Apparently he liked Malfoy. Harry was so screwed.

What would everyone say if they found out? Would they think less of him for liking Malfoy? Or would it be the fact he’s a massive hypocrite who’s been against unity parties, all the while fancying the main reason he’s against them? Harry wasn’t used to being put in situations like this. He was tempted to just pretend like nothing had changed and like he knew nothing, but he didn’t think that was possible at this point.

By the time Harry was pulled from his thoughts, he was back at the eighth year common room. Harry glanced around and noticed that the only other person in the room was, of course, Malfoy. He looked up from his book when Harry entered and didn’t lower his eyes straight away, which of course made Harry flustered.  
“What do you want, Malfoy? Come to gloat?” Harry demanded.  
“Actually you came in here, I was here already”  
“Not the point” Harry could feel colour rising in his cheeks, why had he even said anything?  
“No then, to answer your question, although I did win pretty spectacularly, didn’t I?” He looked back down, smirking.  
“The others are out planning a party for later by the way. Just to warn you” he added.  
“Warn me?”  
“Well you didn’t seem keen to join in last time”  
Harry just saw a challenge; Malfoy was trying to get a rise out of him.  
“I’m not scared of silly party games, Malfoy” Harry glared. “I’ll be at the stupid party”  
“Whatever you say, Potter” Malfoy muttered, but Harry had already stomped off towards the dorms.

It was only when he dumped himself down on his unmade bed that he realised there was a very real possibility of having to kiss Malfoy again. Fuck. He wasn’t sure he would be able to act normally in that situation. Just the thought of Malfoy’s lips against his was making him hot all over. He could feel himself growing hard at the thought, images of what could have progressed after that kiss, had no one else been in the room, had things been different, rushing through his mind. His hand snaked down to cup the growing bulge under his robes and he let out a sighed breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

It only took him a moment to part his quidditch robes and pull his cock out of his trousers enough to get a hand on it. As he stroked himself, slicking his cock with the precum leaking from his slit, he imagined what else Malfoy could do with those lips, imagined how Malfoy would look leant over Harry taking his cock down his pretty throat. It wasn’t long before Harry came with a soft moan, giving himself a few pumps as his orgasm passed. It was only then that he felt horrified with himself, he had just wanked thinking about Malfoy. If he felt that it would have been weird before, it would definitely be weird now. It must just be the frustration of not winning, the pent up feelings he was experiencing. Merlin, Harry didn’t know how to deal with this. He didn’t know how to deal with attraction, how to deal with someone having the upper hand.

Harry cast a quick cleaning charm, shivering as the spell cooled and cleansed his skin. He didn’t want to have to think about this, and yet here he was, having just come with Malfoy’s face behind his eyelids. It was all his own fault really. He did his clothes back up and determinedly tried not to think about what tonight would bring.

 

* * *

 

“Harry, wake up, the party is starting soon!”  
Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He blinked up at Ron’s enthusiastic face.  
“Come on, Malfoy brought even more firewhisky than last time!” Ron exclaimed.  
Maybe getting sufficiently drunk would let him forget this mess he still had no clue how to deal with. He could tell even to himself that he was being a bit dramatic, but he was bad at dealing with things like this at the best of times, let alone when it was his enemy (ex-enemy?).  
“Hurry up, I want a drink!” Ron urged.

By the time he’d showered, changed, and made it down into the common room, everyone was sat around in a circle again. Harry groaned in frustration, he had really hoped they wouldn’t have to play these games again.  
“Sit next to me again, Harry!” Luna called. Harry made his way over and sat cross-legged at her side. Something about Luna was particularly calming, and that was exactly what he needed. Luna’s company was far gentler than anyone else’s.  
“It’s okay, Harry, don’t worry” she murmured, and pat his shoulder comfortingly. Either he was being really obvious about his discomfort, or Luna was doing her usual intuitive knowing. Maybe it was a bit of both.

Firewhisky was handed around, someone had again got plenty of paper cups again that were being filled liberally. Harry gulped half of his down straight away, ignoring the burn in his throat.  
“Don’t drink that so fast” Hermione said quietly. “It’s pretty strong, you know”  
Harry resolutely ignored her and swallowed another mouthful. He wasn’t even that keen on the taste of firewhisky, but he figured that if he got a little tipsy he would worry less about everything, maybe just forget it for a few hours. But there he was, right across the circle. Malfoy looked even better tonight than Harry thought was possible. Instead of slicking his hair neatly, Malfoy’s hair was natural. Still neat, but some of it fell into his face, and it brought out a softer side to his features Harry hadn’t noticed before. The robes he was wearing were flattering, clearly not Hogwarts robes, but rather, tailor made to fit him perfectly. Harry didn’t even have any experience with fancy robes, but he could tell those ones fit Malfoy like a glove.

Malfoy looked up and caught Harry staring, and their gazes held for a moment. Harry knew he had been caught. He knew it was too late to quickly look away and pretend it was a coincidence that their eyes had met, but instead of sneering or glaring as he would have before, he couldn’t do anything. It was like his gaze was suspended there, trapped in silver irises that were just as unwavering. Malfoy was doing that thing again, looking at him so searchingly, like he was looking for something in particular. Harry didn’t even feel as exposed as he had before, he watched Malfoy right back, and his stomach was fluttering and his heart was slowly speeding up. The impulse to find out what exactly Malfoy was searching for in him was so strong, but so was the impulse building in his body to just kiss him. Looking at Malfoy like this was torture of the best kind, he was torn and confused, but in moments like this it was almost as though he had clarity that he just _wanted Malfoy_. It was only when the moments broke and he was back in reality with their past, and the inevitable fallout that would happen, and the fact that they just couldn’t get on that things got difficult.

“Hey, Draco, the game is starting” Parkinson announced. Harry felt the moment shatter as Malfoy’s eyes flickered away from his and onto Parkinson, who was watching him speculatively and knowingly.  
“Of course it is” Malfoy said confidently. Harry didn’t understand how Malfoy could keep track of what was going on in the outside world when a moment like that had just happened. Harry didn’t even know what bloody game they were playing!

He soon caught on to the fact it was spin the bottle again. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, he might kiss Malfoy again, but on the other hand, he might kiss Malfoy again. He sighed and downed the rest of his drink, ignoring Hermione’s disapproving looks.

As the game went on, Harry had to endure watching Ron and Hermione snogging for what seemed like an hour, Dean and Seamus literally all over each other, and other countless small kisses between other players. Luna had kissed Zabini and then whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear,  
“You’re a very good kisser, but I’m sorry, I just prefer girls” before patting his shoulder and moving back to her seat next to Harry. He had also had to witness Neville kiss Parkinson, which was amusing. Neither of them enjoyed that in the slightest.

When it got to Harry’s turn, he spun the bottle, feeling the room spin a little with it, before it came to a shaky stop on Seamus. Seamus grinned at him, and gave Dean a quick kiss before scooting across the circle towards Harry. Harry could see Malfoy out of the corner of his eye glaring. He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to look away or death glare them into oblivion. The kiss turned out to be pleasant, but short and platonic, as expected. Seamus had moved back over towards Dean, who’d smiled at Harry reassuringly. Harry wasn’t honestly sure what was considered okay when you were in a relationship whilst playing spin the bottle.

As the game went on, Harry could feel the effects of the alcohol more, he was definitely tipsy, maybe even more than tipsy. When he watched Malfoy spin the bottle, it seemed like it was going so fast his eyes couldn’t keep up with it, it was only when it was suddenly pointing at him that he realised the gravity of the situation. He and Malfoy locked eyes again, and this time there was something in Malfoy’s eyes that was strong and certain, and then he was shuffling forward on his knees and Harry was stumbling forward to meet him. Then there were hands on his waist, holding him up, and the smell of Malfoy’s cologne all around him. He couldn’t tell if it was Malfoy’s proximity that was making him dizzy or the alcohol, but he was going with it.

When he looked up, Malfoy was right there, his short hair soft and beautiful against his face, those eyes so silver they sucked Harry right in, and then that mouth that was made for sinning. His lips were slightly parted, and looked as soft as Harry knew they were. Harry drank the sight of Malfoy in in wonder, and then he couldn’t help himself. They were both pressing forward, their lips meeting in a rush. It was clumsy, co-ordination off, but Malfoy tasted like firewhisky and apples and so delicious that Harry could kiss him forever. Malfoy’s hands were still tight against his waist, and Harry could feel the heat through his t-shirt. His fingers went clumsily up into Malfoy’s hair, dragging through the shorter strands at the back. Merlin, he loved the feel of Malfoy’s hair in his hands, the feel of his lips pressed hard against his. When Malfoy parted his lips, Harry eagerly kissed him deeper, his tongue flicking out to meet Malfoy’s. That soft slide of tongue and the way Malfoy was gripping his waist was driving Harry crazy, and when Malfoy gently bit down on his lip, Harry let out a whimper. He faintly heard the rest of the group gasp, but he was too caught up in Malfoy’s mouth to care about anything.

Their lips moved together so perfectly, like they were made to kiss each other, and even with drunken co-ordination, they were so in time with each other, and their lips fit so well. Harry slid his tongue against Malfoy’s and pulled him closer, and that’s when they both let out a little gasp. Harry could feel Malfoy’s dick, hard and unyielding against his own, which was straining against his jeans. They stared in shock and wonder at each other for a moment, and then Malfoy’s expression was freezing over, and he was moving back, leaving Harry in the centre of the circle, wondering what had just happened. Malfoy took his place by Parkinson, and carefully crossed his arms over his lap, avoiding looking at Harry at all.

Harry, even more confused than he had been before, stumbled his way back over to Luna, who leant towards him.  
“That was a very good kiss, Harry” she praised. Harry had thought so too, but it seemed that Malfoy didn’t agree. Malfoy must just have been hard as a physical reaction; he had moved away from Harry as soon as he possibly could. Hermione must have been wrong. He didn’t know what was up with Malfoy, or why he was behaving the way he was, but he certainly hadn’t acted like he was interested.

 

* * *

 

When Harry awoke the next morning, his head was a little worse for wear. He dragged himself out from behind his bed curtains and was greeted by the sight of Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean already awake, but also looking like they’d rather still be sleeping.

“Hey mate, wondered when you’d be up” Ron said. He still had his eyes closed, despite the fact he was sitting upright on the edge of his bed.  
“I’m not even sure I’m awake now to be honest” Harry replied, yawning.  
“Hangover cure” Neville announced, producing a few potion vials from his trunk and handing them around. They all swallowed the liquid gratefully; Harry could feel the dull ache in his head dissipating immediately.  
“Thanks, that’s so much better” Harry said. The other nodded in agreement and murmured their thanks.  
“No problem, now tell me about last night” Neville said eagerly. “I mean, other than the couples, you and Malfoy were… well-“  
“Snogging each other’s faces off!” Seamus crowed. Dean sniggered beside him.  
“Yeah, you kinda were” Neville agreed, nodding solemnly.  
“Yeah, what was going on there?” Ron asked lightly. Ah, so this was Ron trying to confirm or not.  
“I, uh, well I don’t really know” Harry admitted.  
“You like the bastard!” Seamus said, as though it was obvious. Maybe it was.  
“Do you, Harry?” Ron asked. They all watched him levelly, waiting for an answer.  
“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, frustrated. “I don’t really like him, he’s a git still… but I think I also kind of _do_ like him?”  
Dean nodded sympathetically. Neville and Ron didn’t look surprised, but also didn’t look particularly happy about the revelation. Seamus just looked smug.  
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Ron asked. “How can you like someone and not like them at the same time?”  
“It’s always been like this with Harry and Malfoy” Seamus said matter-of-factly. “Think of all the times he wouldn’t stop going on about him”  
Ron looked surprised.  
“Oh yeah, maybe you’re right”  
“I’m literally right here!” Harry exclaimed. The last thing he wanted was his friends trying to make sense of something even he couldn’t. If he couldn’t understand what was going on in his brain, how were his friends meant to?

At breakfast, the comments and questions continued in hushed tones so that the former Slytherins wouldn’t hear from the other end of the table. Thank Merlin for small mercies. Everyone seemed to want to know if there was anything going on between he and Malfoy, or if he was interested in Malfoy. Harry was, frankly, getting really tired of explaining that he didn’t know any more than anyone else did. He was still confused and strangely hurt by Malfoy’s sudden withdrawal from their kiss. He had thought the kiss was incredible, even better than the first time, and he had thought Malfoy had felt something too. He must have been mistaken.

Harry felt thankful when the conversation moved on to their eighth year trip to Hogsmeade that evening. Harry had actually forgotten all about it. Maybe going out for a few drinks with friends would be a good distraction for him. They planned to visit The Hog’s Head and apparently a new bar that had opened recently. Conversation about the new bar was excited and enthusiastic, apparently they had good music and even areas to dance, very different from any other drinking establishments in Hogsmeade. Harry tried to focus on the excited chatter, but kept finding himself drawn to watching Malfoy as he sipped his coffee. He couldn’t help noticing how carefully and elegantly Malfoy held himself and the mug. Every movement was precise and almost beautiful to watch. He looked down quickly when Malfoy glanced his direction, but he was sure he had been caught looking.

 

* * *

 

By the time the evening had come, they had all trooped down to Hogsmeade, loud laughter and good spirits surrounding them. It seemed everyone was really looking forward to letting loose a little, and even Harry found himself eager to have something else to think about other than class work and Malfoy. In honesty, Harry wasn’t used to having so little to worry about. It was something that had taken a lot of getting used to after the war. Going out would be good for all of them.

Once at the Hog’s Head, they had all chatted with Aberforth, before getting a round of butterbeers and finding a table in the back to sit at. Once they were seated, the conversation flowed easily and cheerfully, and it felt almost as good as the old Gryffindor common room had. The air was full of laughter and the smell of butterbeer and eventually firewhisky. It had gotten late as they drank and talked, and soon they were heading over to the new bar.

The air outside was cool, despite the weather having been warmer recently. That made it all the more of a shock to the system when they entered the new bar to find it hot, smoky, and fairly crowded.  
“This is more like a club!” Hermione exclaimed loudly, over the music that was so loud you could feel it through your bones.  
“Yeah, it’s great!” Seamus yelled back, immediately dragging Dean over to the dance floor.  
“Who knew so many people visited Hogsmeade?” Ron said, surprised.  
Harry figured it was the attraction of an all wizarding club in the area.

Once they had reached the bar, Harry had a good look around. The place was big, but it had low ceilings and the air was foggy with smoke. Lights danced around the room, illuminating the wizards and witches on the dancefloor in technicolour blurs. Soon, Harry had a glowing drink thrust in his hand by a cheery Ron, who had apparently bought them a round. Harry had already had enough to drink really, but this cocktail smelt like berries and vanilla and was a luminous blue, he couldn’t resist trying it.

The drink didn’t disappoint, and with the taste of creamy, berry alcohol on his lips, he found himself dragged onto the dance floor by Ron and Hermione. Only under the influence of alcohol could he be persuaded to dance of his own free will. Soon they were all holding hands and moving clumsily around in a circle, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt. They dragged each other round, trying not to stumble on the alcohol-sticky floor or bump into anyone else too much. The dancefloor was so packed though that it was hard not to, but that just added to the atmosphere. Harry hadn’t had this kind of fun in too long. He vowed to himself that they would have to do this more often.

Soon, though, he was thirsty again and he really fancied another of those glowing berry drinks. He left Ron and Hermione dancing together, promising to be back soon, before making his way to the bar again. In no time at all he had another drink in his hand and he was sipping it slowly, leaning against the bar. It was a good opportunity to take a breather, and Hermione and Ron looked like they were having fun together. They needed some couples time too.

It was only then, with a start, he realised he was standing next to Parkinson.  
“Potter” She acknowledged.  
“Parkinson”  
“Draco is here, I think you should use this as your opportunity to make peace” She said calmly, looking over the dancefloor. Harry quickly did a scope of the room, trying to find platinum hair in the crowd, and failing.  
“You don’t have the right to tell me to do anything! You tried to hand me over to Voldemort” he hissed.  
Parkinson winced at the name, but turned her body to face him, taking a slow sip of her drink. Harry noticed for the first time how tired she looked.

“I never apologized for that, I should have.” She said, her voice unwavering.  
“I’m sorry, I was scared. I know that is no excuse, but it’s the truth” She took a deep breath.  
“We were all scared” She added pointedly. “Including Draco”  
Harry just stared at her. He couldn’t tell if he should be angry, or just let it go like Hermione had told him to when she first came to him with the game night idea.  
“It was Draco that persuaded us to return” she continued.  
“He insisted we should try to better ourselves, try to change the fates we had made for ourselves. If it had come from anyone else, I wouldn’t have listened. I was ready to start anew”  
Harry couldn’t decide whether he wished she had or not. He couldn’t really believe that he was in the middle of a new bar, slightly drunk, with Parkinson apologizing and talking up Malfoy to him. Why was she doing that anyway?

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry demanded.  
“I’m trying to make you understand” Parkinson answered. “Things have changed”  
“Draco may be… difficult at times, but he is fiercely loyal and I don’t like seeing him hurt. I even spoke to Granger, you know.”  
Harry nearly interrupted her to demand to know what on earth Parkinson had to say to Hermione, but she was ploughing onwards.  
“Granger and I have come to an understanding. We may not like each other very much, if at all, but we have decided it is best to just move on”  
Harry was going to have a serious conversation with Hermione when they got back to the common room later. How could she not have mentioned this to him? Maybe Parkinson was lying.  
“Just talk to Draco when you get the chance” She finished, taking her drink in hand and starting to walk away. She paused and turned back for a second.  
“And thank you for allowing me to apologize”

Harry was still standing at the bar mulling over what Parkinson had said when he caught sight of Malfoy’s hair in the crowd on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure whether he should believe anything Parkinson had said, he had no reason to. Equally though, she had no reason to lie about any of it, especially when they were all forced to live together. Any problems she caused would come back to her, and she must know that. Fuck it, Harry decided.

Harry quickly downed his drink and started moving through the throngs of people with purpose. Something could be said for Gryffindor bravery and impulsivity; it prevented him having to think about anything for too long. The air got thicker and hotter the further into the crowds he got, and he could see Malfoy’s platinum hair getting closer. He wasn’t particularly sure what he was going to say, and he hadn’t given himself much of a chance to think of anything. He didn’t have much time to think at all; all thoughts left his mind as soon as he set eyes on him.

Malfoy wasn’t wearing robes, he was wearing _muggle clothing_. The black, soft looking shirt he was wearing was clinging to him, and if Harry had thought that the robes Malfoy was wearing the other night had been attractive, this was something else. It was tight in all the right places, and actually showed off the slim, angular shape of his body. The dark colour made his skin appear even paler, almost ethereal, and the fitted trousers he was wearing were also something Harry wouldn’t be able to forget for a long time. He drank in the sight for a moment, before Malfoy noticed him standing there.

It was that meeting of eyes, which always felt like a bludger to the stomach for Harry, that made time seem slower. The neon lights glanced off of Malfoy’s hair, and he was all Harry could focus on, even with the crowds of people surrounding them. Harry got nudged from behind in Malfoy’s direction and suddenly they were face to face again. Harry could feel the heat coming off Malfoy’s body, could see the slight sheen to his skin that revealed the heat around them. Malfoy licked his lips, looking down at Harry warily. And When Harry got knocked into again, he ended up in Malfoy’s arms. Harry stared up at him, their lips were so close, and it would be easy, so easy to just close that gap. He had come over here to talk to Malfoy, to hear him out as Parkinson had suggested, but instead he was stood in the middle of a dancefloor, Malfoy’s arms still around his waist and he still hadn’t let go. Harry never had quite learnt to look before he leaped.

“You-You’re wearing muggle clothing” Harry said, breathlessly. It was all he could think to say. He found his hands coming up to rest against the front of Malfoy’s shirt, gripping at the soft fabric, as though he had to touch it to prove it was real.  
“Well observed, Potter” Malfoy drawled, but his voice was breathy, any snark that had been intended was lost to that.  
“Why?” Harry inquired. “You would never…” he allowed his words to trail off. Malfoy’s expression had hardened a little, but his hands were still unmoving against Harry’s waist.

Harry was vaguely aware that they were stood still in the middle of a bustling dancefloor, people dancing and moving around them. It was like they were in their own little bubble. Harry could feel his heart beating overtime, like it had every time he’d been this close to Malfoy. They still had hands on each other, neither of them had moved since the crowd had forced them together.

“If you hadn’t already noticed, Potter, a lot of things have changed” Malfoy answered. It was the same thing Parkinson had said to him.  
“What, you like muggles now?” Harry snorted. The idea seemed absurd after everything he knew about Malfoy, everything Malfoy had said and done.  
“It’s not that simple. I just realised in that year before coming back to Hogwarts that I had- I had been wrong. About a lot of things” Malfoy finished. It looked like it pained him to say it. Harry can’t imagine Malfoy being someone who admits his errors easily.

Harry was actually a little blown away by Malfoy’s admission. He had never expected Malfoy to look him in the eye and confess that he realised he had been wrong. Even Harry himself had issues admitting when he was wrong. It was something he never would have expected, not in a million years, from Malfoy. Even at the trial when Harry had testified, Malfoy had just given him a nod, never thanked him or apologized properly. In fact, he had never even thought he’d see Malfoy again after the trial. He had always figured one of them wouldn’t return to Hogwarts. He had certainly not anticipated standing here, in a club, in the warmth of Malfoy’s arms, whilst Malfoy admitted he had made mistakes. What in Merlin’s name had happened in the year leading up to their return to school? Either way, if even Malfoy could find it in himself to admit he was wrong, Harry could too.

“Look, I was wrong too” Harry swallowed. He had to bring it up now, he couldn’t not. Parkinson had told him to make peace, Hermione had told him to apologize.  
“What I said in truth or dare, I lied” He confessed. Malfoy’s expression was unreadable, but Harry felt the hands on his waist tighten their grip.  
“I don’t regret saving you, not even a little bit” Harry said sincerely. It was true, he didn’t regret it, he had known as soon as he’d said it that he didn’t regret it.  
Malfoy’s expression had become pinched.  
“You’re just saying that” He accused.  
“I’m not, Parkinson told me to-“  
“She made you say that, didn’t she?” Malfoy looked defeated, his shoulders visibly slumping.  
“I don’t need your pity, Potter” He snarled, but there was more pain in his words than bite. His hands fell from Harry’s sides, and he was left feeling cold without the heat of Malfoy’s hands against him.  
“Malfoy, I mean it, she didn’t-“ Harry started desperately, but Malfoy was already walking away, head down.

Harry was left standing in the crowd again, and the irony of the parallel between being left now to being left during spin the bottle wasn’t lost on him. This time however, it was his fault. He wasn’t sure exactly why what he had said had upset Malfoy so much, he had intended to smooth things over. Instead, he seemed to have upset Malfoy even more. Harry felt himself start getting irritated; Malfoy hadn’t even heard him out. Malfoy was the one that had more to own up for than most, what right did he have to act so melodramatically? It seemed that most people had found it in themselves to at least move on from past actions and bad decisions people had made, and yet Malfoy was still acting like a prat. He surely couldn’t be holding a grudge against Harry still, for the war or for that comment, not after everything. Harry was getting emotional whiplash from all the mixed signals.

“Fuck it” Harry murmured to himself, for the second time that night. He had tried. He decided he would speak to Hermione later, ask about what she and Parkinson had spoken about, maybe that would shed some light on the situation. He made his way back over to Ron and Hermione and carried on dancing with them. It made him feel better, but he couldn’t fully drag his mind away from Malfoy. That seemed to happen a lot recently.

 

* * *

  
It was the next evening when Harry managed to get some time to speak with Hermione. After they had left the bar, they had all walked clumsily home, drunkenly singing and laughing. In his alcohol fuelled daze, he had almost forgotten what he wanted to talk to Hermione about, but by then it was late, he was too drunk to be having that conversation anyway. Throughout the next day hadn’t been any easier either, he had never been able to get her anywhere away from prying ears, and he somehow felt that Malfoy’s confession and his reaction were something immensely private.

“’Mione, I’ve head you’ve been talking to Parkinson” Harry announced, as he sat down in the chair next to her in the library. She looked up from her parchments, eyebrows raised.  
“How do you know that?” She asked.  
“Parkinson told me. She spoke to me, apologized actually” Harry answered. Hermione’s expression softened.  
“I’m glad, what else did she say to you?” She inquired innocently.  
“She told me to make peace with Malfoy” Harry replied. He wondered how much about all this Hermione actually knew.  
“And did you?” Hermione asked.  
“I tried, but he got upset. Told me I was just doing it because Parkinson told me to”  
Hermione frowned, but she didn’t look surprised.  
“You need to speak to him again” she said, certainly. “Make him hear you out”  
“Hermione, you know, you never actually told me that you spoke to Parkinson” Harry said, changing the subject a little.  
“I wasn’t sure you would approve. It was actually her who approached me”  
“Why?”  
“She wanted to explain, she wanted to make her own peace” Hermione said.  
“I’m tired of hatred, I’m tired of everything the war caused. I don’t want to use my energy maintaining hatred for people who seem to have genuinely changed” she finished.  
“So are you friends with Parkinson or something?”  
“Oh no, not at all. I just don’t care to live in the past any longer”  
Hermione was always so rational about everything. She had realised it was better to look forwards rather than backwards. Harry could do the same thing too.  
“I’ll try again with Malfoy” he replied.

 

* * *

  
In class Malfoy avoided Harry in every way possible. He didn’t look at him at all, avoided him in the halls, even turned his chair so he didn’t have to see Harry in his peripheral vision. Harry was torn between being hurt by the rejection, and being angry that Malfoy was acting like a dramatic git. It had been days since the instance in the bar, and Harry had been missing those eyes on him, missing Malfoy’s acknowledgements of him. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about how Malfoy’s chest had felt under his fingertips in the bar, the way Malfoy had held onto him, and the warmth he exuded. The kisses they had shared haunted him too, he often woke in the night hard and aching with the whisper of Malfoy’s lips still tingling his skin. More often than he’d like to admit, he’d stroked himself to completion with Malfoy’s name on his lips, images and memories of hard angles and soft lips and warm skin rushing through his mind. He found himself wishing he had a pensieve just so he could relive those kisses. He found himself aching for another opportunity to be close to Malfoy, but knew another wasn’t coming. It was driving him insane.

It was that evening while he was speaking to Ron that Harry decided what he was going to do. There had been a rare moment where they had the common room to themselves and Ron had taken the opportunity to ask Harry if he was alright. It was actually nice to have a conversation with Ron without having to worry about Seamus butting in that, really, Harry was just into Malfoy. As much as it may well be true, it did impede on having a meaningful conversation about the situation.

“What’s up, mate? If Malfoy’s been a prat to you, I swear I’ll hex him” Ron said.  
“No, he hasn’t, but he is acting like a prat” Harry replied.  
“Look, mate, you know I don’t like Malfoy, but you know you can talk to me, right?” Ron said reassuringly. Harry sat up to face Ron and saw that his expression was sincere.  
“I tried to make up for the comment I made in truth or dare, but he freaked out and wouldn’t listen, now he won’t even look at me” Harry explained.  
“So you _do_ like him?” Ron asked.  
“Yeah. It seems like he’s changed, he actually said he had been wrong. I mean, it’s a start, y’know?”  
“Why won’t he listen to you then?”  
“I don’t know. ’Mione says I should talk to him again, maybe she knows something we don’t”  
“She usually does” Ron agreed, nodding.  
“Look mate, I say go for it. You’re acting like a kicked crup” Ron said sympathetically.  
“Go fix it, and don’t let him be a prat, he owes you enough to at least hear you out” he finished.

It meant a hell of a lot to have Ron’s encouragement as well as Hermione’s. Harry felt like he could actually do something now. If Ron and Hermione were behind him, what could go wrong? He knew they’d always have his back. Harry resolved to talk to Malfoy the next opportunity he got. It turned out to be sooner than he anticipated.

 

* * *

  
Harry was walking down the hallway on his way back to the common room when he saw Malfoy again. He was exiting the arithmancy classroom, and Harry was conveniently walking in his direction. They had almost an entire halls length between them, but Harry would notice Malfoy immediately anywhere. Just a flash of white blonde hair was enough. He walked slowly, purposely letting the hall empty out a little before the inevitable confrontation happened. He was going to make sure Malfoy at least listened to what he had to say. Malfoy was so focused on the books in his arms, head down, that he didn’t notice Harry getting closer. By the time they were only a few feet away from each other, the hallway was as good as empty. Harry could only see a couple of students crossing into an empty room right at the end of the hall. This was as good a time as ever. Harry was trying to stay calm, he couldn’t believe how wound up he felt. His stomach was twisted with apprehension, expectation and an urgency he couldn’t quite pin down.

Malfoy’s head snapped up just as Harry’s feet came into his line of vision, his expression immediately clouded, features tight. Harry fought the clench in his stomach that came with being under Malfoy’s scrutiny. They came to an abrupt stop, only a couple of feet distance apart. Harry could already feel the crackle of tension in the air between them.

“Get out of my way, Potter” Malfoy warned.  
“I’m not moving. I need to speak to you”  
Harry kept his voice level. The way Hermione managed to get shit done was primarily to be the voice of reason in situations, she saved her anger for instances that really deserved it. Harry was going to stay calm, and then maybe Malfoy would let his guard down long enough for a conversation.  
“I said move, Potter. I’ll hex you out of the way if I have to”  
“Look, I just want to talk, just hear me out”  
Malfoy’s frown deepened.  
“I told you, I don’t need your fucking pity. You don’t have to be righteous all the time. Find one of your little admirers to pass the time, Potter. I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say”

Harry was struggling to keep calm. Asking Malfoy to listen for two minutes was not exactly asking for much. Malfoy’s fingers had gone white with how tight he was gripping his books, and Harry’s hands were clenching at his sides, too.  
“You will listen to me for two bloody minutes”  
“Why should I?” Malfoy snarled. He started walking forwards, and when Harry stepped in his path, Malfoy tried to shove past, but Harry wasn’t having it. He pushed back harder, and heard Malfoy’s intake of breath as he stumbled slightly. Then he was coming towards Harry with meaning, dumping his books on the floor in the process.

This time when Malfoy pushed him, Harry heard the whoosh of breath as it left his own lungs, Malfoy’s sharp elbow digging right into his side. It almost made him double over, but now he was really fucking angry. He grabbed the back of Malfoy’s robes as he tried to pass, and yanked, enjoying the look of shock on Malfoy’s face as he almost fell straight on his arse. Harry didn’t let go though, he tightened his grip on Malfoy’s robes and shoved him backwards until he heard the thud as Malfoy’s back hit the bricks of the wall. Malfoy’s eyes widened for a second and he let out a startled breath, before glaring at Harry defiantly.

“Fuck you” Malfoy spat.  
“What the fuck is your problem?” Harry snarled. He could feel a bruise already forming on his side and suddenly he was getting flashbacks to the petty fights they used to have before the war even started. It was almost a relief to have some normalcy, but he was so far beyond wanting to fight Malfoy, he wanted him to listen, he just flat out _wanted him_.  
“I’m not the one assaulting people in the corridors” Malfoy ground out.  
“You started it!” Harry exclaimed. He tightened his grip on the collar of Malfoy’s robes. He could feel Malfoy’s breath against his face from how close they were, how heavy they were breathing. A flush had risen in Malfoy’s cheeks just from that short tussle, and if ever a blush had looked more attractive, Harry didn’t know about it.  
“Just fucking listen and then you can go” Harry glared.

“I don’t regret saving you in that bloody fire, you arsehole. I didn’t have to think for even a second if I was going to go back to save you or not because I would have, whether Ron and Hermione had helped me or not”  
Malfoy looked like he was going to interrupt, but Harry carried on before he could have the chance.  
“You make me fucking furious, angrier than anyone has ever been able to make me before. You wind me up, you’re a twat far too regularly-“  
“Oh, this is definitely worth being assaulted for” Malfoy said sarcastically.  
“See, you’re doing it now! But fuck, I can’t help but like you, I can’t stop thinking about you. Your stupid perfect hair and your eyes and those lips, Merlin, those lips”  
Now Malfoy was looking shocked again, for once without a smart comment to throw back.  
“No one makes me angrier, but no one makes me feel so much either, no one holds my attention so much” Harry took a deep breathe.  
“And no one makes me ramble so mu-“

But then Malfoy’s lips were against his, and a hand was curling in the hairs at the back of his neck, and Harry shivered with the sensation. This was so different from the kisses they’d shared during spin the bottle. This time they were stone cold sober, not being watched by their friends, and they were doing it completely of their own accord. Harry moaned against Malfoy’s mouth with relief. Kissing Malfoy felt like that deep breath you take after you’ve been under water for a long time, like it was everything Harry was meant to be doing. Their kisses deepened, and when he felt that first slide of tongue against his lips, his knees could have buckled.

Malfoy’s fingers tightened in his hair, and Harry was still clinging desperately onto the collar of his robes, dragging him forward this time, instead of trying to push him back. He wanted them to be as close as they possibly could. Harry could feel himself getting hard, every warm press of Malfoy’s body against his own, every panted breath they shared was making him ache. This time when their hips met, and Harry felt Malfoy’s own growing hardness against him, Malfoy didn’t run away. Instead, he let out a stuttered breath, and kissed Harry harder, enough to make Harry dizzy with it.

It was when Harry gave an experimental roll of his hips that he almost came undone. Malfoy’s mouth slipped away from his, and his head was falling back against the wall, a soft moan falling from his kiss reddened lips. Harry was sure he could come from that sound alone, and he whimpered in response, pushing his hips against Malfoy’s harder. He had never imagined, in all his wildest fantasies, that Malfoy would feel this good against him. Every movement, every kiss, sent a spark of pleasure right up his spine.

He almost protested when Malfoy’s lips left his, until he saw the heated look in Malfoy’s eyes. It could also be argued that an open hallway was not the place for this. Malfoy looked beautiful though, flushed and breathing heavily, and Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. Instead, he reluctantly loosened his grip on Malfoy’s robes, and took a tiny step back. Malfoy’s hands slowly fell from the nape of his neck, and stopped against his shoulders.

“You interrupted me” Harry said, softly.  
“You were rambling” Malfoy’s mouth twitched into a small smile.  
“I-I meant it. Everything I said” Harry murmured. He felt Malfoy’s hands falter against his shoulders, but continued talking.  
“Parkinson, she didn’t tell me to say anything. She just told me I should speak to you. That’s all I’ve been trying to do”  
“I don’t- I can’t talk about this” Malfoy muttered, his gaze dropped to the floor.  
“Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you believe me?” Harry demanded.  
“Why would I?” Malfoy snapped.  
“We’re so different, why would you like me? We’ve never liked each other” He added, voice rising.  
“It was since we first kissed that I realised it. I don’t know why it started, I don’t even know when it started, but does that matter? Parkinson said it was you that wanted to come back here, you were the one that encouraged her and Zabini to return” Harry said in a rush.  
“Because I don’t want to be like my father!” Malfoy yelled.

Harry sucked in a breath. If ever there was proof that Malfoy had changed, that was it.  
“You’re not, you’re not like him” Harry insisted.  
All throughout school, Harry had always assumed Malfoy would grow up to be no better than his father, that he just a smaller, more whiny version of him. Now, with Malfoy staring down at him defiantly, looking strong willed and more fiery than Harry ever thought was possible, he looked as far from his father as he could.  
“You don’t know that. You don’t even know me!” Malfoy argued.  
“I’ve been in classes with you since we were eleven. You were the first wizard my age that I met, _ever_. I know you more than you think I do”  
Harry decided not to divulge Ron’s theory that Harry obsessively watches Malfoy, which may be just a _tiny_ bit true.

Malfoy sighed, but he didn’t look like he was going to argue anymore.  
“Look, just give me a couple of hours to prove to you that I mean this. Tomorrow night at eight, meet me in the entrance hall” Harry said.  
He reached up hesitantly and touched Malfoy’s jaw. Harry’s heart rose when Malfoy didn’t move away.  
“You know there’s something between us”  
Malfoy rolled his eyes.  
“Obviously there’s something between us. We were just snogging outside a classroom, Potter”  
Harry relaxed a little. If Malfoy was being sarcastic, that must mean he was feeling more like himself again.  
“So you’ll meet me tomorrow?”  
“I could be persuaded”

 

* * *

 

Harry went back to the common room with a goofy smile on his face. He couldn’t understand why Malfoy was so hot and cold all the time, but it seemed that he was just as disbelieving of the whole thing as Harry had been. Harry still wasn’t convinced himself, if he was honest, but he wanted to find out. They were both stubborn, and Harry was determined to prove that he meant what he’d said. He felt like there was something else holding Malfoy back though. In those glimpses he got of the Malfoy behind the schooled expressions and carefully shuttered demeanour, he saw uncertainty and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. It was like, so far, he was just grasping at the moments Malfoy opened up, before he was rapidly shut out again.

When he walked into the common room, Ron was sat reading Quidditch Quarterly.  
“Hey mate, where have you been? Class finished ages ago” Ron asked without looking up. The way he said it heavily suggested that he knew exactly where Harry had been.  
“I was talking to Malfoy”  
“Did he listen?”  
“Eventually” Harry rubbed his side subconsciously. He was sure he’d have a perfect elbow shaped bruise there tomorrow.  
“That’s good” Ron said, finally dragging his eyes from the magazine.  
“I’m meeting him tomorrow” Harry announced. He wasn’t sure whether Ron would think it was a good idea or not, but he was doing it anyway. Ron’s eyebrows shot up.  
“What for?”  
“I just want us to hang out, see if it could ever work, I guess” Harry replied.  
“Just be careful, I don’t trust him” Ron frowned. “Although, the ferret’d be no match for you” He snickered at the thought.  
“I really do think Hermione’s right, Ron. I think he has changed” Harry said. He didn’t tell Ron what Malfoy had said, he felt like he’d been told a secret.  
“If you’re sure… not everyone would agree” Ron replied. “But you clearly trust him enough, and I trust you, so…”  
Harry felt a surge of appreciation for Ron, he always trusted Harry and never just ignored his judgements. Ron really was a great friend.

 

* * *

 

The next day seemed to pass more slowly than was physically possible. He had been trying to think of something he and Malfoy could do that would allow them some time together and be comfortable at the same time. He didn’t want tonight to be awkward or difficult, and he decided on the perfect plan. It almost felt like a first date, Harry could feel the butterflies in his stomach building as the hours passed, and eight o’clock grew closer. He was also excited for what this might hold, if they ended up getting along okay.

Malfoy studiously ignored Harry in class and at breakfast, apart from the occasional locking of eyes that fuelled Harry’s apprehension and excitement even more. At times he thought he could see the same feelings mirrored in those sharp, grey eyes, and he wanted it to be eight o’clock even more. It was like his body was aching to be back near Malfoy, like they were intrinsically drawn together. With a start, Harry realised that it had always been that way. Ever since that first meeting in Madam Malkin’s, he’d wanted to know more. Every time he’d opened the Marauder’s Map he had searched for Malfoy’s dot first, every time he had entered a room he had looked for Malfoy. Malfoy had often searched him out, too. Did that mean Malfoy felt the same pull? Harry had always called it hate, called it suspicion, but maybe it was something else entirely.

 

* * *

  
At 7.45, Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione that he was going to meet Malfoy, and got up to head towards the common room door. He saw Malfoy glance up from beside Parkinson and his breath caught in his throat. His heart beating wildly, he made his way slowly to the entrance hall and waited for Malfoy to join him.

In the ten minutes he had to wait, he went through an embarrassingly large whirlwind of emotions. First, nerves about their meeting, then pure desire to see Malfoy up close again, then fear that Malfoy wasn’t going to show, and he was just going through the anger at Malfoy standing him up when the man in question calmly walked down the stairs.

Harry resisted the urge to move towards him, and instead waited for Malfoy to approach him. It was taking all his willpower not to rush forward, but he wouldn’t let himself look like Malfoy had that kind of power over him.  
“Potter” Malfoy greeted, when he finally stopped a couple of feet in front of Harry. He looked unsure, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing here, or what had possessed him to agree to this.  
“Malfoy” Harry replied, trying not to let his voice betray his own emotions.  
“Well are we just going to stand here all night? Or do you actually have plans like promised?” Malfoy demanded.  
“Yes, actually” Harry replied. He surprisingly didn’t find himself getting as angry with Malfoy’s snark as he usually would. Maybe it was because Malfoy’s snark was just part of who he was, or maybe it was because it betrayed Malfoy’s own apprehension with the situation.  
“Come with me” Harry said, and he grabbed Malfoy’s wrist before he could protest, dragging him out of the entrance hall, and into the cool air outside.

It was twilight, the sun slowly dipping behind the horizon, but Harry knew the lights would be on. They walked through the darkening grounds, Malfoy laughing loudly when Harry almost tripped over a tree root in the path. He stopped laughing as soon as Harry threatened to drag Malfoy down with him, but then they were both laughing again and jogging towards the quidditch pitch, where the lights had just glittered to life. Harry looked back and saw the pitch lights glowing off Malfoy’s skin, making him seem even paler, the excitement bright in his eyes. Harry’s chest clenched, and he gripped Malfoy’s slender wrist tighter, not able to help the grin that broke out on his face when a tentative smile snuck its way onto Malfoy’s lips.

These were the moments Harry felt to his core, the moments when Malfoy was open and not holding back, but it just made it all the harder when Malfoy undoubtedly shut him out again. Harry was determined not to let that happen though, and as they jogged, panting, into the empty pitch, Harry was quick to hand Malfoy a broom. He didn’t want to give either of them time to worry about anything, or do anything that would make Malfoy shut down on him again.  
“We’re flying?” Malfoy asked.  
“Yeah, it’s what I do when I need some time to myself, and I thought it’d be fun to play some seekers games” Harry replied, picking up the broom he’d left out for himself.  
Malfoy looked more certain with a broom in his hand. It was something that came naturally to both of them, something they didn’t have to think about.  
“Are you looking for a rematch, Potter?” Malfoy asked, challenge in his voice.  
“I’d be happy to beat you again” he added, a sly smirk quirking on his lips.  
“I only lost because-“ Harry quickly trailed off, eyes flickering down to Malfoy’s mouth.  
“I know exactly why you lost, Potty, come lose to me again”  
With that, he mounted his broom and shot into the sky, impossibly gracefully. Harry followed close behind him, and tried not to stare too much at Malfoy’s arse up ahead.

He made sure to get Malfoy’s attention before releasing the snitch. They both immediately zoomed off to opposite ends of the pitch, circling slowly to catch a glimpse of gold under the harsh glow of the charmed lamps. Up above the glare of the lights though, Harry could see the blanket of stars above them, dimmed only by the glow emitted from Hogwarts. Malfoy was lit up by starlight and magic, robes billowing out behind him, and Harry had never been more enraptured. Even on the old school broom Malfoy commanded the air like he was made to fly. He was leant low over the handle, sleek and streamline, but still as angular and sharp as ever. Harry tore his eyes away reluctantly and flew lower, searching anew for the snitch. He wasn’t going to let Malfoy win again.

Flying when there was no crowd and no team practice was so different, it was so quiet you could hear the whistle of their brooms as they whipped through the air, the occasional splash from the black lake and the low rustles of wildlife from outside the pitch. It meant he could also hear when Malfoy suddenly sped up, and Harry was rushing after him across the entire length of the pitch. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw movement in the stands, like someone was there, but he wasn’t going to let anything distract him from being victorious.

It was only when he had the snitch firmly in his grasp that he looked towards the stands, and finding them empty, the figured it must have been a trick of the mind.

They played a few more games, Harry winning all but one of them. He had allowed himself to be distracted again, and Malfoy hadn’t stopped bragging about his win for at least twenty minutes. The night had grown progressively darker as they played, and they had ended up slumped in the middle of the quidditch pitch, having been too tired to carry on. Harry guessed they’d been flying for at least two hours, and the cool grass felt refreshing under him.

They had spent the whole time chasing the snitch, arguing over who had cheated, and throwing light-hearted insults at each other. Malfoy had insisted he would never cheat, which Harry knew was bullshit, and Harry had insisted that suddenly pulling a Wronski Feint had been a complete accident. Harry’s heart was close to bursting with how happy he was. Not only was flying one of his favourite things to do and always gave him more clarity than anything could, sharing it with Malfoy had actually been fun. He would have been lying if he said he was sure things would go well, because he knew it could have gone either way, but the reality was that it had gone better than he’d ever thought it could.

“How come you’re back here, Potter. I would have thought, as the golden boy, you’d be straight into the Aurors” Malfoy said, conversationally, from where he was lying in the grass beside Harry.  
“They did actually offer me a position” Harry admitted. Malfoy snorted.  
“Unsurprising”  
Harry sent Malfoy a light glare. He couldn’t tell if Malfoy was being facetious, or if he was offering a compliment of sorts. Malfoy had his eyes closed, and his arms folded to pillow his head. He looked soft again, his face relaxed and smooth, hair golden under the glow of the lights.  
“I turned it down” Harry said, sighing. In truth, he didn’t know what he wanted to do anymore. For years he had been so certain that he’d become an Auror, to keep the world safe, but now he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t that keeping the world safe wasn’t important to him anymore -he didn’t even know anything else, really- it was just that the war had made him tired. He wanted a break from fighting, from having to be on his guard all the time, a chance to see what life could be like without the threat of death.

Malfoy opened his eyes and frowned at Harry’s admission.  
“You turned it down? Didn’t you always want to be an Auror?” He turned his head to meet Harry’s gaze.  
“I did, but I’m not sure anymore” Harry sighed again.  
“Wait, how did you know I wanted to be an Auror?” he asked, a slow smile breaking out on his lips. Malfoy coloured a little and looked away.  
“I just did. No-one can stop going on about ‘the special Harry Potter’, remember?” He replied quickly, and a little defensively. Harry smiled to himself. Maybe Malfoy did notice him as much as he noticed Malfoy. The thought made Harry’s heart rise a little.

“What about you?” Harry asked, “What do you want to do?”  
Malfoy looked at him again. His expression was speculative, like he wasn’t sure if Harry was joking or not.  
“I want to do a potions mastery” he said finally. Harry couldn’t say he was surprised; Malfoy had always been really good at potions.  
“You are good at potions” Harry said absentmindedly. Malfoy smirked slyly.  
“How do you know I’m good at potions? Do you watch me a lot, Potter?”  
Harry flushed this time.  
“Whatever, Malfoy” he replied firmly. Malfoy’s smirk didn’t fade.  
“I’ve always been good at potions, it’s my favourite thing. I need to get my NEWTs and then look into doing my mastery, and then one day I’d like to open my own apothecary” Malfoy said. He was looking up at the sky, and he looked hopeful. Harry felt his heart lurch, seeing Malfoy talk about his future, and something he was clearly passionate about was more endearing than it should be. It was obvious how much this meant to Malfoy, just in his expression, and Harry found himself hoping for it for him.

When Harry happened to glance up at the castle, he noticed lights going out, so he cast a quick tempus.  
“Malfoy, we should head in, it’s nearly 11” he said, reluctantly.  
“Are you serious?” he asked, turning to Harry, surprise apparent in his voice.  
“Well, yeah”  
“That went surprisingly quickly” he said, sounding amazed. Harry was a little amazed himself. He was sure just a few years ago, had they been out alone together, someone would have ended up in the hospital wing.

They quickly got up and deposited the borrowed brooms back into the broom shed before starting their walk back towards the school. It was darker than it had been on their way to the pitch, and they walked close, both following the path lit only by their lumos. They walked in silence, but it was refreshingly comfortable.

The silence was only broken when Harry did actually trip over the tree root from earlier, and ended up sprawled ungracefully in the dirt. Malfoy stared for a moment before doubling over with laughter.  
“You’re meant to be The Chosen One and even a tree can get the better of you” he gasped between his laughter. Harry glared up at him.  
“Yeah, yeah, help me up you arsehole”  
“No, you look rather amusing” Malfoy sniggered.  
Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s hand, and before Malfoy could react, he pulled as hard as he could. Malfoys laughter cut abruptly as he toppled to the ground beside Harry.  
“Not so funny from down here is it?” Harry demanded, trying not to laugh at the horrified look on Malfoy’s face.  
Malfoy frowned up at Harry, trying to brush the dirt off his robes without even getting up. He still had the same priorities of appearance then.

When their eyes met, Harry realised how close they were. The frown faded from Malfoy’s expression as they lay there, bodies almost touching, on the dirt track halfway between Hogwarts and the quidditch pitch. It would be almost funny if it weren’t for the butterflies going wild in Harry’s stomach, and the heated look that had slowly returned to Malfoy’s eyes.

Without thinking, Harry leant forward, capturing Malfoy’s lips with his own. Malfoy tasted sweet and familiar, and Harry melted into the kiss immediately. He let out a gasped breath when he felt Malfoy shift closer, and cold hands come up to his face, cupping his jaw lightly. Every time they kissed Harry felt himself grow so much surer, so much more desperate for this. He moved his hands to Malfoy’s waist under his robes, his shirt was damp with sweat from flying, and so warm compared to the icy fingers on Harry’s cheeks. Malfoy’s lips were cool and dry against his, wind chilled and the most perfect thing Harry had ever experienced. Their kisses slowly grew more heated, more desperate, lips moving urgently against each other. Their tongues met in the middle, eliciting a soft sigh from Malfoy, which only had Harry pressing closer, wanting to feel every part of Malfoy that he could.

He ended up almost on top of Malfoy, sharp hips under him and strong thighs between his own. When Harry pulled out of the kiss and took a moment to look at Malfoy beneath him, he almost moaned. Malfoy was flushed right down to where his chest disappeared under his shirt, and he was breathing heavily, soft pants clouding slightly in the cool night air. His hair was spread around his head in the dirt like a halo, and Harry couldn’t wait to see Malfoy’s reaction when he realised he had dirt in his hair.

Harry shifted his weight, and Malfoy’s head tilted back, throat exposed. Harry was straddling Malfoy’s hips, and could feel the hard heat of Malfoy’s prick underneath him. His own cock had gradually grown hard while they had been kissing, and was now aching with need, just the sight of Malfoy was enough to make him desperate to come. He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his hips, just to see how Malfoy would react. Malfoy’s reaction was beautiful, he let out a held breath and arched up into the friction, his neck growing impossibly tauter. Harry moaned at the sight and leant down, resting his torso flat against Malfoy’s. He couldn’t reach Malfoy’s mouth, so his found Malfoy’s neck instead, spreading wet, open mouthed kisses across the hot skin.

Malfoy was still arching up against him, his hands had come up to grip Harry’s hips and pull him down harder, the friction between them was driving Harry crazy. He was panting against Malfoy’s throat, and when he bit down gently between kisses, Malfoy let out a low moan. Harry kept one hand supporting his weight, and snaked his other hand down between their bodies. When he found Malfoy’s cock, so hard and straining against his trousers, Harry whimpered and pressed his hand against it firmly.

Malfoy’s reaction was instant, he was rolling them over, pushing Harry into the ground he had just been occupying. Harry was scared for a moment that Malfoy was going to run away again, but then his lips were being attacked, and Harry gasped in surprise and relief against Malfoy’s mouth. They breathed in each other’s warm breaths in the cold air and rocked their hips in slow, fluid motions that had Harry reaching out for more.  
“Please” Harry whimpered, fingertips grazing Malfoy’s shirt as he tried to get purchase. He wanted more, he wanted every part of Malfoy he could get. He needed the feeling of bare skin, the sight of Malfoy coming undone.  
“Let me touch you” Harry added desperately, fingers skimming down to the front of Malfoy’s trousers.

Malfoy paused for a moment and then he was nodding carefully and shifting an inch forward so that Harry could reach properly. With clumsy fingers and his heart in his throat, Harry was unbuttoning Malfoy’s trousers, trying not to rush it, trying not to panic. Malfoy was watching him patiently, and even nervously, but looking so perfect straddling Harry’s waist that it made his heart ache.

When Harry finally pulled down the front of Malfoy’s trousers enough to get a hand on his prick, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be nervous anymore, the hard, silky weight of Malfoy’s cock in his hand was so erotic than Harry felt his own dick twitch. It was when Malfoy let out a soft moan with Harry’s first tentative stroke of his fist around Malfoy’s cock that Harry could see himself coming without even needing a hand on his dick.

Malfoy’s prick twitched in his hand with almost every stroke, and when he paused to spread the precum collecting at the head, Malfoy’s hips jerked forward. Harry’s mouth was almost watering at the sight of it, Malfoy above him, eyes closed tight and a small frown on his face, lips parted as each desperate sound escaped.  
“Fuck, Malfoy, you look so good” Harry panted, trying to rock his own hips up, desperate for friction.  
“I’m close” Malfoy groaned, and he was rocking his hips, fucking Harry’s fist so beautifully it almost hurt to watch.  
“Want to taste you” Harry moaned, and he almost surprised himself, the thought seemingly having come from nowhere. Now he’d said it though, he knew he wanted it more badly than he could fathom.

With Harry’s hands on his waist, dragging him forward, Malfoy obliged until he was straddling Harry’s chest. Harry lifted his head and dragged his tongue across the tip of Malfoy’s cock before he could even think about it too much. The broken sound that fell from Malfoy’s lips was more than enough to spur Harry on, and he was swirling his tongue around the head, tasting the salty precum that collected more and more the closer Malfoy got to orgasm. When he finally closed his lips around Malfoy’s cock, he felt hands in his hair, cradling his head and gripping tighter with each movement of Harry’s lips around Malfoy’s cock.

He _felt_ Malfoy’s orgasm building more than anything else, the way his hips stuttered and his thighs tensed against Harry’s chest, and the fingers in his hair gripped tight enough to hurt. Malfoy was chanting brokenly, Harry only able to pick out “ _Merlin_ ” and “ _so good_ ”.  
“Fuck, I’m gonna come” Malfoy cried eventually, and then Harry was gripping his hips tight, pointedly swallowing down every spurt of Malfoy’s come as he shook and cursed above him. Harry opened his eyes in time to witness the most beautiful thing he was sure had ever existed. Malfoy was coming apart, looking vulnerable and desperate against a backdrop of stars, but not even the most gorgeous night sky could rival the beauty of Malfoy in that moment.

It only took Malfoy a few seconds to catch his breath before he shifted and moved back down so he could catch Harry’s mouth in lazy, heated kisses, and then Harry was thrusting up desperately against him. Malfoy’s mouth dropped to Harry’s neck and sucked, and the thought of having a mark was nearly enough to push him over the edge.  
“So close” Harry gasped, and suddenly Malfoy’s lips were against his ear.  
“ _Harry_ ” he whispered, and that was all it took, Harry was crying out and filling his own pants with come as he thrust brokenly through his orgasm.

Harry slumped almost immediately, and Malfoy remained boneless on top of him, both of them breathing heavily. Harry was surprised his brain was still functional after that. They remained in that position until the drying come in Harry’s pants was enough to bother him, and he slowly rolled out from under Malfoy. Malfoy put himself away before looking over at Harry warily. It was like he expected rejection, and Harry needed to make sure he knew that this was real, that he meant it. He cast a quick cleaning charm, and then he leant over to kiss Malfoy slowly and with promise, and when he pulled back, Malfoy looked a little less unsure.

After a moment, Malfoy frowned.  
“I have dirt in my hair, Potter”  
Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing, and soon they were both cracking up, still lying in the dirt.  
“We should go in” Harry announced when they’d both stopped laughing long enough to catch their breath. He didn’t want to cast a tempus for fear of how late it was, and he didn’t even have his invisibility cloak to sneak them in. Hell, if they got caught, it would be worth it.

 

* * *

 

The ended up returning to the common room without running into anyone or getting into any trouble, and the common room had been pleasantly empty. Harry had been torn by his desire to stay with Malfoy, spend as much time as possible with him, and his need for sleep. Part of him was scared that when he woke up it would all be a dream; he would be back to being shut out. He knew it was a very real possibility, and it just made him want to cling onto the moment harder. Instead they shared a soft kiss, and both went up to their separate beds.

Harry didn’t fall asleep for a long time though. His mind was racing through every moment they had shared, every laugh, every joyous smile Malfoy had thrown his direction as they flew, every kiss and touch they had shared afterwards. The way Malfoy had said his name, his given name, was burnt into his psyche. That simple whispered word had been enough to take him apart, and had meant more to him than most anything else Malfoy could have said. Harry dared to hope it meant the beginning of a new openness between them. He had thought about saying Malfoy’s given name out loud, in his mind it sounded foreign, but stunning and new. _Draco_. He whispered it to himself from the silence of his bed, and had it not rolled off his tongue so perfectly, he would have felt stupid whispering to himself in the dark.

At this point, Harry was sure Malfoy - _Draco_ , he reminded himself- felt something for him, especially after what had occurred between them earlier. Every moment he got in Draco’s open presence he felt it, as though whatever was growing between them was somehow tangible, he could almost taste it on Draco’s lips when they kissed. The history of years of rivalry, the comprehension of another facet to those feelings, the promise of more. They still hadn’t spoken at any length about what this was, what this could be, and Harry could feel Draco’s reservations when he thought too much, could feel his doubts. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t feel it himself, it was that he was leaving that denial behind, and clearly he was lacking whatever it was holding Draco back.

Harry just hoped that he had broken down those walls for good now, that they could talk, move forward, see what happens.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he was awoken very rudely to Ron demanding to know where he’d been.  
“Where the fuck did you go last night?! You were gone for ages!”  
Harry shoved his arm over his face to try to shade his eyes from the sunlight now streaming his direction through the curtain Ron had thrown open.  
“I was with Draco” Harry replied, sleepily. Merlin, the name sounded even better out loud than it had whispered. He felt a soft shiver travel the length of his spine.  
“For that lon- wait, did you just call him Draco?”  
“That’s his name”  
“You’re in too deep, Harry” Ron answered sincerely. Harry figured that yeah, maybe he was.

He told Ron everything, minus the sex details, and Ron listened in fascinated silence.  
“He wasn’t a git the whole time?”  
“Well, not really, no more than his normal self”  
Ron looked dubious. Harry figured that Ron’s tolerance of Draco’s attitude was far lower than his own had become.  
“I think he likes me” Harry admitted.  
“Well it’s pretty obvious, the way he looks at you” Ron replied.  
“Yeah, but he doesn’t always act like he likes me, sometimes I’m not sure”  
“What? Like how you denied it for about three years?” Ron said, sarcastically. He did have a point really. Harry had gone through his own denial and confusion, and maybe he just had to wait for Draco to work through his.  
“Last night seemed different though, I’m hoping he’ll stop shutting me out” Harry said, thoughtfully.  
“Hopefully. Maybe then you’ll stop pining”  
Harry glared at Ron meaningfully. Harry Potter didn’t pine. Okay, maybe only a little.

 

* * *

  
On his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair down the corridor, and immediately his attention was captured. He frowned slightly, it looked like Draco was in the middle of a heated conversation with someone Harry vaguely recognized, but it was hard to see that far away. It didn’t look like it was a civil conversation, and part of him wanted to go over there to find out what was happening. He held his path firmly though, Draco could look after himself, and really it was none of Harry’s business, it’s not like they were together. Yet.

 

* * *

 

By the time he got to see Draco long enough to talk to him, it was the afternoon and they were using the library for a class study session. Harry waited until he saw Draco go down one of the library aisles for a book, and then got up to follow him. It would give them a little privacy at least.

When he caught sight of Draco’s face, he stopped in his tracks. He looked hurt, like he was warring with himself silently. Harry felt panic stir in his gut, something about this gave him a really bad feeling.  
“Draco” he said quietly, stepping a little closer. He saw Draco jump, like he’d been startled. When grey eyes met his, they were sad.  
“You said my name” he whispered. He looked surprised, like Harry had said a word he didn’t understand.  
“You called me Harry last night” Harry replied softly, in explanation. He saw something shatter in Draco’s eyes, and Harry’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.  
“I did, didn’t I?” Draco whispered, barely audible. His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment.  
“I didn’t mean it” He said suddenly. Harry would believe him if his voice hadn’t come out shaky and uncertain.  
“Didn’t mean what?”  
“Last night. I didn’t mean it. None of it meant anything” Draco replied. His voice had grown surer, but he was still avoiding Harry’s eyes, his hands clenched tight around the book he was holding.  
“You’re lying” Harry insisted. He could feel his heart in his throat, he was almost convinced he would throw up.  
“I’m not” Draco replied. He finally met Harry’s eyes, and they were shuttered, grey and stormy. It was like looking into a coming storm, like there was nothing that could be more dangerous, could tear Harry apart more thoroughly. Maybe there wasn’t.  
“Draco, you can’t-“  
“Don’t call me that, Potter” Draco snapped. He had that pained look again, his face pinched and tight.  
“Draco-“  
But Draco’s face was breaking, pain pouring through, and then he was shoving past Harry roughly and Harry was watching his retreating form feeling like he’d just been hit by a cruciatus.

 

* * *

 

The roof of his four poster bed looked no different than it had hours earlier when he’d fled the library feeling sick to his stomach and with an ache in his chest that wouldn’t cease. He didn’t believe that Draco meant what he’d said, but whether he’d meant it or not was almost irrelevant. He’d said it, and he’d said it with the intention of meaning it. Harry didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t let go now, he was too invested. He hadn’t imagined the day going like this. In just a few minutes he’d gone from feeling optimistic and practically floating from their kind-of-date last night to feeling like his heart had taken up permanent residence in his throat. It physically hurt. In fact, he felt a little pathetic. He was acting like they were together, like he’d just been through a torturous break-up, when in reality he’d not had anything to lose in the first place.

Apart from, his treacherous brain reminded him, the glow in those grey eyes when Draco was happy, that ridiculous laugh when something was so funny he didn’t even try to hold it in, the side of him that was careful and talented in potions, the side of him that was soft and open, the side of him that was sarcastic and infuriating. The pure, dazzling, sight and feel of Draco Malfoy was etched into Harry’s brain and it was so deep he didn’t think he could ever forget it. Years of Draco Malfoy flickered through his mind like a broken muggle VCR and Ron had been right, he was in too deep.

Hermione had chased after him and been there to offer some comfort, but really he just needed to be left alone. He didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t want to think about it. And yet, here he was, mind filled with nothing but Draco.

 

* * *

 

The next week passed in a blur. It was like everything was moving fast and Harry was stuck in his own time zone, moving at half speed through each day. It was like the rest of Hogwarts was speeding by without him while he wallowed miserably. Infuriatingly, Draco was just as present as ever, he just avoided Harry at all costs. It was like they had taken two steps back again, if two steps were comparable to falling down a flight of fucking stairs. Things were even worse than before any of this had happened, before that stupid kiss in spin the bottle had sparked a fire that was as untameable as fiendfyre. The problem was, Harry didn’t really want to put it out.

When Dean announced that they were having another games night, Harry could think of nothing worse. Draco hadn’t as much as met his eyes once since the instance in the library. As much as Harry craved having Draco close to him again, he didn’t want it under those circumstances. He also didn’t want to have to witness Draco kissing anyone else, or he himself having to kiss anyone else. It would be too painful.

Somehow though, he ended up being persuaded that some company and firewhisky would be good for him, despite the fact that he was ninety-nine percent sure that it was possibly the worst thing for him at the present time. He ended up sat beside Luna again, Hermione on his other side, and despite the comforting vibes they were emitting, he felt terrible. Sharp anxiety was settling and flaring repeatedly in his stomach, and when Draco took his usual position in the circle beside Parkinson, his stomach swooped dangerously. How was it that even when Draco had fucked up so badly, all he wanted was to be closer?

As usual Draco avoided looking in his direction, instead leaning in to whisper something to Parkinson, who looked up in Harry’s direction in the most unsubtle way. He wondered what was being said about him, and felt a low flare of anger bubbling inside him. In a way, anger was a nice break from the self-pity he’d been feeling.

He proceeded to ignore Draco back as best as he could, while drinking far too much firewhisky. It was less than three goes in to spin the bottle before the room was fuzzy at the edges and despite the warmth of alcohol in him, the anxiety didn’t recede. It didn’t peak either however, until it reached Draco’s go.

Harry watched the bottle with foreboding, no outcome of this spin would be good. It seemed to last forever, never slowing or ceasing in speed, until Harry noticed it had stopped. His drunken gaze followed the neck of the bottle up to a smirking Zabini, and Harry felt sick completely anew. It was at that moment, as Draco looked up from the bottle, that he finally caught Harry’s eyes. Their gazes held only for a second, but it was enough for Harry to recognize regret and indecision. For a hopeful second, he though Draco wasn’t going to do it, was going to turn it down, and he felt a flare of promise glow in his core. But then Draco was turning to face Zabini, and they were leaning in, and Harry couldn’t fucking look any longer. He let out a choked breath, convinced the firewhisky he’d consumed was about to make a comeback, and leapt to his feet.

Everyone’s heads whipped round to face him, and he felt simultaneously embarrassed, and like he couldn’t care less what anyone thought. He stood there for a moment, and he was sure he was literally shaking with anger and hurt. Hermione and Ron were looking concerned, Parkinson was glaring at Draco, everyone else just looked shocked. Harry turned to face Draco, who was now, finally, looking at him properly.  
“Fuck you” Harry spat. His words shook, and even he could hear the pain and anger in his voice. Draco’s eyes widened, and then his mask cracked and he looked broken again, but he made no move to get up. Draco’s lack of proper reaction made it hurt even more, and suddenly his firewhisky glass was shattering in his hand, all his anger coming out in one small burst of uncontrolled magic. The room gasped, and people were starting to get up to help him, or to clean up the glass, he didn’t know, but Malfoy still hadn’t moved, despite the shock in his expression.

Abruptly, Harry didn’t know what he was doing, and so he was running for the door, his legs alcohol-weak beneath him and his friends concerned voices ringing in his ears. He needed to get away, he needed to fly. Thing is, Harry knew he wasn’t in any state to be flying, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was the only thing that gave him peace, the only thing that made him feel better.

In a heartbeat he was stumbling through the grounds, and when he tripped over that fucking tree root in the path and fell to his knees, he wanted to scream. Instead, he was yanking his wand free of his sleeve and growling ‘ _incendio_ ’ until the root was aflame. The fire burnt as bright as the feelings raging inside him, and he could only stare at the patch of forsaken ground for a few more seconds before his previously happy memories with Draco bubbled to the surface, and he wanted to set those aflame too.

Instead, he carried on towards the pitch, accioing his firebolt as he stomped down the path. He’d forgotten it in his rush to escape the common room. Maybe it would hit Draco on its way out to him, he though wryly.

Once he was in the air, he felt immediately better. His movements were clumsy and uncalculated, but he’d only nearly fallen off once. He was just trying to go as fast as he could around the perimeter of the pitch, letting the harsh wind on his face wash away all his thoughts.  
“Harry!”  
He heard the voice first, but then he was looking down in the vague direction it had come from, and saw the shock of white-blonde hair that he knew so well.  
“Harry!” Draco repeated, and he was running into the pitch.

Harry was tempted to ignore him, pretend he’d not heard, but an equal part of him wanted to hear what he had to say, to demand answers. He uncertainly dove towards the ground, leaving it dangerously close before he was pulling up. He’d landed about twenty meters away from where Draco stood, not trusting himself to get any closer. He didn’t know if he’d want to fight him or kiss him.  
“Harry, I couldn’t do it” Draco was calling desperately, and he was walking closer. Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach swooped at the sound of his name on Draco’s lips.  
“I couldn’t stay away, they wanted me to stay away” he added.  
Harry was trying to make sense of it all through the firewhisky clouding his mind. Despite the cool air and exhilaration of the flight sobering him up a little, he was almost scared to believe this was real.

Draco was rushing closer, and Harry was tempted to run forward too, meet him in the middle, but it felt like his feet were glued to the ground. He felt his broom drop to the ground beside him, suddenly focused on nothing more than Draco.  
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, his voice strangled. He still hadn’t moved, but Draco was so close now, slowing down just a few metres from him.  
“They didn’t want me near you, they said they’d hurt you, said they’d ruin my life. But I can’t do it, and I couldn’t kiss Blaise either, I wouldn’t do it”  
“Who?” Harry asked, bewildered. “Who told you to stay away?”  
“It was-“

But then Draco’s voice was drowned out by a loud crack, and Harry couldn’t see anything over the sudden burst of light to his left. He could faintly hear Draco’s voice, hear shouting and hexes being cast, but everything was growing fainter. His vision was getting fuzzy round the edges, and he felt like the world was tilting to the side. He realised, in a dizzy haze that _he_ was tilting to the side, his knees buckling beneath him. In his tunnelling vision he could see Draco scrambling towards him, his mouth moving urgently like he was talking, but Harry couldn’t hear anything anymore. It looked a hell of a lot like ‘ _Harry_ ’ though, and Harry clung to that as everything else went black.

 

* * *

 

When Harry opened his eyes, he was blinking at the all too familiar sight of the hospital wing ceiling.  
“Draco” he croaked. His throat felt like it was stuffed the cotton wool, and he swallowed uncomfortably.  
“You’re awake!” It was Hermione’s voice, and Harry felt a little calmer knowing she was here. He turned to face the direction her voice had come from, wincing at the ache in his neck, and was met by her concerned but relieved expression.  
“What happened?” He asked. He was already flexing his muscles, trying to catalogue any damage. Other than being incredibly achy, and feeling like he hadn’t slept in a week, nothing seemed overly injured.  
“You were hit by a curse” Hermione said sadly. Panic flared inside him, Draco had been out there too.  
“Is Draco okay?” He asked urgently. He was looking around the room, despite his body’s protests, but couldn’t see Draco anywhere.  
“Yes” Hermione replied, gravely. Harry was immediately uneasy. Something in her voice sounded bad, like she was treading carefully around her words.  
“What happened?” He demanded.

Hermione sighed and launched into the story. She explained how Harry had been hit with a curse that had caused him to have to stay in the hospital wing for a week, that he’d been unconscious for the whole time. No one had been sure if Harry would fully recover or not for the first few days, they weren’t even sure what the curse had been. It had been dark magic though, and incredibly dangerous.  
“Yes, but what about Draco?” he insisted. He didn’t care about the curse all that much, he was awake now wasn’t he?  
“They thought he did it” She said, her voice sounded strained.

Harry couldn’t speak for a moment, he felt his mouth opening and closing in shock, it was just such an absurd accusation.  
“I know he didn’t” Hermione added, quickly, obviously noting the rising anger in Harry’s expression.  
“But the aurors thought he did, and so he had to leave the school” Hermione paused and took a deep breath.  
“And they put him on house arrest in the manor until they could investigate”  
Harry could feel the fury rising in his core. He hated that because of Draco’s past they had assumed that he had done this. He felt a surge of guilt when he realised that before he had taken the time to know Draco, he probably would have assumed the same thing.  
“But he’s back now?” Harry asked, desperately.  
“Not yet. They wanted to talk to you”  
“Bring them here now then”

Despite Hermione’s protests that Harry needed to recover more, he had insisted on speaking with the aurors as soon as possible, and so Hermione had reluctantly gone and got them. He felt awful, wondering what Draco was going through. He probably thought it was all over, all his opportunities. Harry thought back to when Draco had said he was hoping to get his potions mastery, and he felt sad and angry all over again. They wouldn’t take that from him just because of left over war prejudice. Draco had had a trial; he didn’t deserve this. Harry suddenly understand in a new light what Hermione had meant about the past being better left in the past, and why unity was so important.

Harry spent nearly an hour speaking with the aurors, not even caring how tired he felt, or how much the exhaustion built with each minute trying to put his case forward. They listened attentively, even though a few of them looked dubious at Harry’s defence of Draco. He had told them his version of events, the conversation he had been having with Draco before the curse had hit him, how he’d seen it wasn’t Draco who had cast it and how Draco had looked like he was trying to help. He even told them about what Draco had said about someone trying to keep him away, and Harry was almost certain it was those people who had done it. One thing was for sure, he knew that Draco wasn’t involved in anyway. The realisation of that trust surprised him a little, he hadn’t even questioned Draco’s innocence in the whole situation. Things had changed so much from when they were younger, back then Harry would have blamed Draco for anything bad that happened without hesitation.

Hermione rushed back to his side as soon as the aurors left, with Ron beside her.  
“Mate! Thank god you’re okay! I wasn’t allowed in while the aurors were here. Also mum’s worrying herself sick” Ron said, relief clear on his face.  
“I’m okay, just tired. Have you heard about Draco?” Harry asked.  
“Yeah, I managed to speak with him before it all kicked off”  
“What actually happened, with all the details” Harry insisted, firmly. Ron took a deep breath.  
“Okay, so after you left in a rush like that, everyone was worrying because, let’s be honest, you were drunk off your nut. We also didn’t know if you’d cut yourself on that glass you smashed”  
Harry winced. It was a little embarrassing now.  
“So we all started trying to organize to go and find you, and when I turned around to tell Malfoy were to go look, he had gone. Not fifteen minutes later, we had him running up to us like the world was ending. Luckily me and ‘Mione were on our way down to the quidditch pitch to look for you”  
Hermione nodded seriously.  
“So we rush down there after him, and he’s babbling about curses and deatheaters and how it’s all his fault… and then we saw you in the middle of the pitch, just lying there”  
Ron took another breath.  
“We thought you were dead. You should have seen Malfoy though; he was in a right state. When we got you to the hospital wing, he wouldn’t leave your side. I even caught him holding your hand and whispering to you, but I don’t know what he was saying.”  
Harry felt his heart warm a little in amongst all his worry. Draco had stayed with him, held his hand even. He hated that Draco was blaming himself though, Harry was sure it wasn’t Draco’s fault.

Ron’s expression turned serious.  
“The problem came when someone overheard Malfoy saying it was his fault, and they assumed he had done it, I guess” he said.  
“Me and ‘Mione could tell he hadn’t done it, no one could look that heartbroken if they’d done it, even if they are a slytherin git”  
Ron smiled wryly.  
“One things for sure, the aurors had to drag him away from you. He was shouting at them that he couldn’t leave you there, but obviously they took the accusation seriously and had to take him to the manor until they could talk to you”

Harry was just hoping that now he’d spoken to them, Draco could come back. He needed to talk to him, sort everything out between them. He just missed having him here.

“He mentioned something about someone trying to keep him away from me just before it happened” Harry said. Ron and Hermione looked at each other with concern.  
“Did he say who they were?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.  
“He didn’t have the chance. He was going to before I got cursed” Suddenly, Harry remembered the confrontation he’d seen Draco having in the hallway.  
“He was arguing with someone in the hallway the day after we flew together, and they looked familiar, but I couldn’t see who it was from a distance. I don’t know why, but it gives me a bad feeling, I feel like it could be them”  
Ron looked unconvinced.  
“Mate, Malfoy argues with everyone who looks at him the wrong way”  
It was actually Hermione who jumped to his defence.  
“Not anymore, Ron. Pansy told me he was trying to change, trying not to follow in his father’s footsteps. That’s why he’s been nicer”  
“Right, so the argument was suspicious, then” Ron said, then he turned to Hermione.  
“We’re talking later about this conversation you had with Parkinson” he added.  
“I just feel like this person is involved somehow, I think they framed Draco” Harry said, bringing the conversation back to the subject at hand. Hermione turned back to look at him, her expression grave.  
“If that person did this, they’re still out there, and they might do it again”  
Harry sighed. He had hoped not to have to worry about his safety after Voldemort died.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Harry was allowed to leave the hospital wing, and there had still been no word from Draco. Hermione had told him that Draco hadn’t returned to the common room yet either. How long would it take the aurors to sort it out so that he could come back?

Ron and Hermione had been on their guard the whole time, looking out for anyone who might try to hurt Harry. Hermione had insisted that he might still be weak from the curse. In the meantime, Harry was trying to look out for the person he’d seen talking to Draco, he felt like if he found them, then he’d finally get some answers.

When they finally got back to the common room, the door had barely shut behind them before Parkinson was rushing over to them.  
“He’s on his way back, he told me to let you know” she said, quickly. Harry felt relief surge through him. Draco would be back soon, they could talk, he would be near.  
“What’s happening?” Hermione asked, urgently. “Do you know about this person that told him to stay away?”  
Parkinson’s expression grew serious.  
“Yes, he did tell me”  
“Do you know who it is?”  
“Unfortunately not, although I have an idea. He told me he’d didn’t want me to know, or it would cause me problems too” she turned to Harry. “I tried to get him to tell you, but he said he couldn’t”

“Pansy, what do you know?” Hermione asked.  
“Someone threatened Draco, said that ‘bad things’ would happen if he carried on getting involved with Potter” she replied.  
“But how did they know?” Harry demanded, he and Draco hadn’t been that obvious around anyone else, apart from during spin the bottle, but that was only amongst people he felt he could trust.  
Parkinson rolled her eyes.  
“Well for a start, anyone with functional eyes could see the two of you are interested in one another, but in this specific case, Draco said they’d told him you’d ‘been seen’, whatever that means”

Harry was confused for a moment, and then all at once he was remembering all those little things he’d noticed that had seemed out of place, but not enough for him to pay much attention at the time. The students heading into a classroom he knew to be empty that period, thinking he saw someone in the stands while he and Draco were flying, the confrontation he saw Draco having with that recognizable guy in the corridor.  
“I know who it is”

Within approximately two seconds of Harry voicing his suspicions on who it could be, everyone was shouting over one another.  
“Harry are you sure?”  
“We need to find him and hex his face off”  
“We should go to Professor McGonagall straight away!”  
“Wait!” Harry yelled. He took a deep breath as Ron, Hermione and Parkinson all looked over at him, mouths frozen mid shout.  
“I think Hermione is right. We need to go to McGonagall”  
Parkinson looked disappointed.  
“And then we hex his face off?” She asked, hopefully.

 

* * *

  
They managed to get to McGonagall’s office in almost no time at all. Harry knew the password, and they burst into the room without hesitation. It always shocked Harry a little to be back in the headmaster’s office. It was like he expected Dumbledore to be behind the desk waiting with a vague but genius comment and a lemon sherbet. He knew that Dumbledore still resided in the castle, in the portrait above Professor McGonagall’s desk. Professor McGonagall, who was currently looking at them like they’d all gone mad.  
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” She asked briskly.  
“We think we know who cursed Harry” Hermione exclaimed.  
McGonagall’s expression went from disapproving, to surprised. She turned to Harry.  
“And who would this person be?”  
“Dennis Creevey”

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, but she did not dismiss them straight away. Harry took the opportunity to explain more. He told her about what had happened between he and Malfoy, and about seeing Dennis and his friend in the corridor and arguing with Draco, but not having been able to tell who it was from a distance. He explained that it was only when he put it all together, thought about who would want to keep Draco away from him, who would want him framed.  
“If Dennis Creevey is doing this out of some attempt at keeping Mr. Malfoy away from you, why exactly, would he curse you?” McGonagall asked.  
“I think he knew that everyone would assume Draco had done it”  
He saw Parkinson bristle out of the corner of his eye. McGonagall studied him for a moment before she rose slowly from her desk.  
“I’ll summon Mr. Creevey right away. In the meantime, I believe Mr. Malfoy has returned”

As soon as they left McGonagall’s Parkinson grabbed his sleeve.  
“Draco’s back” She exclaimed happily. He couldn’t help but return her smile. After all, he was just as excited, if not more, as she was. Harry figured that having a shared interest in Draco was certainly encouraging that inter house bonding Hermione had spoken about. It was strange though, having Parkinson treating him in an almost friendly way. She seemed to think the same thing, because as soon as she looked down and saw her hand on his sleeve, she was snatching it back and flouncing ahead.

It felt to Harry as though the walk back to the common room took far longer than it had on their way to the office, longer than any other time he had walked it, even. He was so impatient to see Draco, to be able to explain everything, find out where they stood. He was even more excited now that he knew Dennis Creevey would be dealt with. He still couldn’t work out why Dennis would do this. He had suspicions, that he held resentment towards Draco for his prior involvement with Voldemort, especially since he lost Colin. As to why he was trying to keep him away from Harry though, he couldn’t understand, that didn’t affect him in anyway, after all. Harry made a mental note to ask McGonagall what Dennis had said, he at least wanted an explanation.

His thoughts were pulled from his mind the second the common room door swung open and revealed Draco standing across the room. Harry’s heart plummeted just as quickly when he drew his eyes away from Draco long enough to notice Dennis Creevey standing in front of him, wand pointing squarely at his chest. Draco remained frozen in his position, not even looking over to the door, his hands lifted away from his pockets. Harry knew there was no way Draco would be able to get to his wand faster than Dennis could throw a spell. Hermione, Ron and Parkinson had all stopped in the doorway too, no one sure how to deal with the situation best.

Dennis’ eyes flicked over to them for a split second, his wand still pointed steadily at Draco.  
“Get out” he growled.  
“Dennis, what are you doing?” Hermione asked gently. Harry was glad she’d spoken first, because he was sure that if he’d said anything it would just have made the situation ten times worse. All he could feel was tension and anger.  
“I’m not going to let him” -he jabbed his wand in Draco’s direction, and Harry felt himself flinch-“Ruin anything else”  
“What do you mean?” Harry demanded. When Dennis turned to face Harry properly, something in his expression changed. He looked almost scared, like he was uncertain.  
“You’re angry” Dennis said, resignation in his voice.  
“Obviously! You can’t hurt my-“ Harry clamoured for a word, it’s not like Draco was his boyfriend, but equally, ‘friend’ didn’t really cover it.  
“You can’t hurt him” Harry settled on finally.  
“Why not? He’s hurt loads of people”  
“I didn’t want to” Draco said quietly. Dennis’ head whipped round to Draco, who’d slowly got his wand out while Dennis had been distracted.  
“I didn’t want to do any of that, but he threatened my family”  
“I _lost_ part of my family!” Dennis yelled. His wand was trembling in his hand.  
“I’m sorry” Draco said.

Harry had never actually heard Draco apologize so obviously to anyone. His breath caught in his throat. Dennis turned back to Harry, his wand was slowly dipping. It was like the fight had been sucked out of him.  
“Why would you do this to Colin, Harry?” he demanded. “Why would you be with him after all he did?”  
“You heard him, he didn’t want to do it. He’s not that person”  
Dennis’ wand was at his side now, defeat clear in his expression. Hermione slowly approached him, and placed a comforting hand on his arm.  
“We need to get you to McGonagall” she said softly.  
With one last betrayed look in Harry’s direction, he did as instructed, and allowed Hermione to lead him from the room.  
“I’m going with her” Ron whispered. Harry thought that was probably a good idea, he didn’t know if Dennis really had given up or not.

Draco still hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing with Dennis’ wand pointed at him, although he seemed to have relaxed a little. As soon as Ron, Hermione and Dennis’ voices disappeared down the corridor, Parkinson was rushing over and flinging her arms around Draco’s neck.  
“Never scare me like that again!” she exclaimed. After a moment she was lowering her arms and looking between Harry and Draco calmly.  
“Now you two need to talk, which you seem exceptionally bad at, but at least give it a go”  
With that she was heading up to the girls’ dormitories, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

Both of them remained still for a moment, holding each other where their eyes met, and then Harry was dashing forward to where Draco stood. Draco didn’t move, but when Harry came to a stop in front of him, pale hands were reaching out and coming to a stop against his chest. Harry looked down at Draco’s hands against him, and even the sight of that gave Harry a surge of joy. He lifted a hand and let it rest against Draco’s where it sat upon his chest. When Harry lifted his eyes back to Draco’s, he was struck. Those grey eyes, usually so shuttered and cold, where bright and open, and Harry suddenly understood what Hermione meant when she’d said Draco looked at him like he was the sun. His breath hitched, and his hands were tightening on Draco’s, and he realised he’d taken a step closer without even thinking about it. If Draco looked at him like he was the sun, he was sure his expression was that of someone looking at the moon, with wonder.

“I’m glad you’re back” Harry said. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to even slightly cover how glad he was to have Draco here in front of him, to feel Draco’s hands under his, but he was sure there weren’t words for that.  
“I thought you were dead” Draco said, his voice near a whisper.  
“I’m not”  
“Well obviously”  
Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply, when he was pulled forward into Draco’s arms. He went happily, and snaked his arms tightly around Draco’s waist. He could feel Draco’s fingers clinging to the back of his t shirt almost desperately, like if he let go for a second Harry wouldn’t be there anymore. Draco’s chin was resting on Harry’s shoulder, his face tilted in towards Harry’s neck.  
“That was the second time I thought you were dead, and it was hard enough the first time” he murmured. His breath ghosted across the skin of Harry’s neck, leaving warmth in its wake. He thought back to the time Draco was talking about. Lying in Hagrid’s arms, pretending to be dead. Had Draco cared back then? It certainly sounded like it.

“I’m okay” Harry reassured. “No lasting damage”  
“I almost cursed him, you know” Draco revealed, voice quiet. “I didn’t because you were more important, I needed to know you were alive”  
Harry nodded in acknowledgment against his chest.  
“Although the next time I see him, he’ll be on the receiving end of a stinging jinx” Draco muttered.

Harry moved back a little so he could see Draco’s face. It was then that he noticed how tired he looked, how worried. He reached a hand up to Draco’s face, feeling the soft skin of his sharp cheekbone, watching how Draco’s eyes softened at the touch.  
“Kiss me” he whispered.  
And then Draco’s lips were on his, so gentle and tentative, like the very first time they kissed. The content sigh he let out was lost between them, their lips moving with more purpose. Harry was putting all the emotion he felt he couldn’t vocalise, didn’t know how to vocalise, into this kiss. Trying to tell Draco everything through the soft movement of their lips. Draco felt just as good, just as beautiful as every time they’d kissed, and Harry felt devoured by it.

When they separated, Harry couldn’t help but keep his fingers against Draco’s cheek, and Draco’s fingers didn’t budge from where they were entangled in Harry’s t shirt. It was almost like they couldn’t let each other go yet, not even by a step.  
“Pansy said we should talk” Draco said finally. Harry nodded. They did need to have a conversation about everything that had happened. He needed to find out what Dennis had said to Draco, find out if that was the only reason he had been holding back, closing himself off.  
“We should” Harry replied.

They went and sat on one of the sofas in front of the open fire, Draco in the corner, Harry on the cushion next to him, cross-legged. Harry had taken hold of Draco’s hand the second they’d gotten comfortable, not able to keep himself away.

“What happened? I want to know everything” Harry started.  
“It’s a long story” Draco warned.  
“We have time”

Draco sighed and sat up a little straighter, like he was preparing.  
“The day after we kissed in the hallway, Creevey approached me. He’d seen us together and didn’t like it. I’d been feeling unsure about the whole situation, I knew we were different, that you had no reason to like me, or I to like you, so everything was going on seemed unreal. After what happened between us in the hallway, I was feeling more sure, what you said made me believe you, even if only a little. It was enough for me to agree to see you though, to see what could happen”  
Draco took a deep breath, and Harry squeezed his hand comfortingly, urging him to continue.  
“The day we were due to meet, Creevey told me to stay away. He told me that you probably didn’t care, and told me that I didn’t deserve to be near you. When I scoffed at him, he threatened me. He told me if I went near you the people I care about would end up hurt, that he’d show everyone who I really was”

“You still met with me that evening though” Harry said.  
“I know, and he saw us flying. I didn’t even notice him there. To be frank, I didn’t take him seriously, I didn’t think he actually meant it”  
Harry felt momentarily guilty for not mentioning he had thought he’d seen something in the stands, maybe it would have made all of this much shorter lived.  
“The next morning he told me he’d seen that I hadn’t listened, and so he told me he’d hurt you and ruin my life if I saw you again. He said he could easily do it, since no one would believe a deatheater”  
Draco said the last word like he’d eaten something horrible, and Harry felt angry. Dennis hadn’t even really known Draco, and he especially didn’t know him now.

“So that’s why you told me it meant nothing?” Harry asked.  
“Yes. I couldn’t risk the people I care about getting hurt, or my future being ruined. I was lucky enough to be allowed back here as it was”  
Harry felt a little relieved that it had been because of Dennis that Draco had said it meant nothing, and not because he actually meant it.  
“Anyway, when I went down to the pitch to get you, he was there waiting for me. I guess he knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away, and that’s when he cursed you”  
“How did you know I’d be there?” Harry inquired.  
“I remembered you telling me you fly when you need some time to yourself” Draco replied.  
Harry smiled softly. Draco had remembered that, he’d known Harry well enough to find him straight away.

“As soon as you were in the hospital wing, aurors arrived and took me to the manor, they said someone had seen me curse you. I knew who it was straight away. I tried to tell them it wasn’t me, to make them let me stay until you woke up, but they said they didn’t know that you would”  
Draco swallowed thickly.

Harry couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been. If he had been in Draco’s position, falsely accused and not even knowing if he was alive, he would have been in shreds. He couldn’t imagine how a week trapped in your own house like a prison without any information must have felt.  
“Is everything okay now though?” Harry asked. He wasn’t sure if Draco was still in trouble, or whether his statement had sorted all of that out.  
“Yes. Once the aurors had spoken to you, I was free to go”  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Draco still looked tense though, like he was still on edge, and harry wouldn’t blame him if he was after what Dennis had done.  
“I’m so glad you’re here” Harry said, softly.  
“You have no idea”

 

* * *

 

The next morning was much calmer. The previous night they had gone to bed soon after their conversation, Harry still tired after the curse, and Draco not having slept well at the manor. Harry had looked for Draco as soon as he, Ron and Hermione had arrived at the Great Hall. He had already filled them in briefly on the way there, so they weren’t surprised when he went and sat down next to Draco. Breakfast had been nice, and he could feel that Draco was feeling better than he had been the previous day. Draco had been feeling better so much so that he threatened anyone who sniggered or claimed their bets on how long it would take for them to get together. Harry was particularly surprised to hear that one bet had been standing since 4th year. He almost felt embarrassed to have been that oblivious.

“Do you think we could have done this earlier?” Harry asked Draco later, when they were sat on the sofa in the common room.  
“Done what?” Draco asked. He was currently watching a heated chess game between Ron and Blaise. Apparently, Ron had found out over breakfast that Blaise was good at chess, and had insisted on proving that he was better.  
“Got together” Harry replied.  
“Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend, Potter?” Draco asked, turning to face him finally, a small smirk playing on his lips.  
“Well- I thought, you know- since we’re-“ Harry said, embarrassed. It wasn’t what he’d been asking, he hadn’t really thought of what they were, but now Draco had said it, he wanted nothing more.  
“It’s too late, I guess I’m stuck with you. I suppose I’ll have to be your boyfriend” Draco replied nonchalantly, inspecting his nails with great interest.

Harry smiled slowly, and leant over to place a soft kiss on Draco’s cheek, he could see the light flush developing, and he couldn’t wait for the first time he could say that Draco was his boyfriend out loud.  
“As much as I’m overjoyed to have you as my boyfriend, I was actually asking if you thought we could have done all this before now”  
Draco turned to him, face serious.  
“I don’t think so” he said. “I had a lot to learn, I needed to learn to be myself and not what was expected of me, I had a lot to unlearn too”  
Harry nodded. It made sense, both of them had had to go through the war and come out the other side to be the people they were today. Maybe it never would have worked before, but Harry couldn’t help wishing they’d spent less time fighting and more time kissing.

Harry couldn’t help but lean over to capture Draco’s lips, almost as though he was trying to make up for lost time now. Draco responded straight away, hands coming to rest against Harry’s waist, and lips parting obligingly. He tasted just as amazing as every other time, and yet it still shocked Harry, still sent sparks up his spine. He was sure he could never get tired of kissing Draco, not in a million years.  
“Get a room!” Ron exclaimed, sounding incredibly put-out.  
They broke apart, but Harry couldn’t shift his eyes from Draco’s.  
Even a short kiss like that was enough to set Harry reeling, and he needed more, needed everything Draco would give him.  
“Great idea” Draco whispered.

 

* * *

  
If Harry hadn’t known that you can’t apparate within Hogwarts, he’d be convinced they’d just apparated into Draco’s dorm with the speed they got there. No sooner had they got through the door, Harry was pulling Draco in, kissing him hard, tangling his fingers into that silky white-blonde hair he loved so much. Draco just let out a breathy moan, before he was walking Harry backwards towards the bed.

Harry toppled back as soon as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he was dragging Draco down with him, refusing to separate his lips from Draco’s for even a second.  
“I know you said it wouldn’t have worked, but I wish we’d spent all those years doing this” Harry said breathlessly, lips still grazing Draco’s even as he spoke.  
Draco just laughed softly, moving down to mouth at Harry’s neck.  
“I know I made you think last time meant nothing, but I want to prove to you that that couldn’t be farther from the truth” Draco whispered, his words leaving whispered breaths on Harry’s throat.  
His lips opened against the sensitive skin, and Harry was tilting his head to the side to give him more access. He didn’t seem to be able to control the soft moans that Draco was dragging from him, like every movement of Draco’s mouth against him was connected directly to his vocal chords.  
He could feel himself shifting, his hips lifting off the bed, trying to get some friction. He was so hard he was aching, and he could feel Draco hard against the side of his thigh.

“Please” he whispered.  
Draco gave his neck one last lingering kiss, before he sat up slowly. When Harry opened his eyes, Draco was looking at him almost hungrily.  
“You on these sheets” he breathed. Harry looked down at the Slytherin-green silk sheets he was lying on.  
“Your eyes” Draco continued, smoothing a hand down Harry’s chest to stop him sitting up.  
“I knew there was a reason I liked the Slytherin colours so much”

Harry was pushing himself up, unable to keep his hands off Draco any longer, he wanted to feel every single part off him. He found Draco’s lips immediately, kissing him desperately as he manoeuvred him onto his back.  
“You know, I’m not convinced anything could make these sheets look better than you do” Harry whispered, and he was awed with how beautiful Draco looked, already dishevelled just from kissing.  
Draco just watched him steadily, as if challenging him to make his next move, and Harry was reminded of heated looks shared on the quidditch pitch, and it made him want even more.

He reached down slowly and with purpose, undoing each button on Draco’s shirt as slowly as he could bear, marvelling at the expanse of pale skin that was revealed. It was then that Harry noticed a silvery line across Draco’s otherwise flawless skin. It started at his collar bone and went low enough that it disappeared under where his shirt was still covering his lower stomach. Harry felt a surge of guilt when he realised _he_ had done that.  
“I’m sorry” he whispered, reaching out as though to touch the scar, but stopping just before his fingers made contact. Draco’s expression softened in that way that always set Harry’s heart aflame.  
“I’ll forgive you if you just touch me” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips.

When Harry’s fingers first grazed the bare skin of Draco’s chest, he _felt_ the catch in Draco’s breath, his chest stuttering under Harry’s touch. He parted the shirt until all of Draco’s torso was exposed, and then he was taking his time, running his fingers across the smooth skin. Draco was watching him calmly, but Harry could see the desire in his eyes, the urge for more. It was when Harry dragged the tip of his index finger across Draco’s left nipple that he really got a reaction. Draco arched his hips a little, pushing up into empty air, a choked breath escaping his lips.

Harry almost whimpered at the sight of him. How long had he wanted this without even knowing? He repeated the motion on Draco’s right nipple, and Draco was letting out a low moan.  
“More” he gasped, and Harry couldn’t help but oblige. He leant down and closed his lips over Draco’s nipple, flicking his tongue across it until Draco was writhing beneath him.

Harry slowly started kissing lower, following the scar he’d made down Draco’s body as though kissing it could prove how sorry he was. He was trailing his lips across the warm skin of Draco’s stomach, leaving hot open mouthed kisses in his wake. By the time Harry reached the waistband of Draco’s trousers, Draco was impatient.  
“Just touch me, you arsehole” he demanded. “And take off your clothes”  
Harry didn’t have the will power to tease Draco about being so eager, instead he was pulling his t shirt over his head as fast as he could, and opening the button of his jeans so he could get a hand on his cock.

Harry reached a hand down and ghosted it over the bulge in Draco’s trousers, chuckling at the way Draco pushed his hips up. Draco frowned at him, but Harry couldn’t take it seriously when he looked so desperate for it. Harry gave himself a slow stroke, spreading the precum at the tip. He watched how Draco’s eyes followed the movement as though hypnotised, and then Harry couldn’t hold off any longer.

He leant down and mouthed at Draco’s cock through his trousers. Draco let out a surprised gasp, and then Harry felt hands find his hair, and it just spurred him on even more. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how hot it had been that night after they’d flown, the heavy heat of Draco in his mouth, the gorgeous sounds Draco had made whilst Harry had made him come.

It took Harry all of two seconds to get Draco’s trousers open enough to push them down and off with his underwear, before he was back between Draco’s legs. He glanced up and caught Draco’s eye. He looked open and vulnerable, and maybe even a little nervous, Harry himself could feel a flutter of nerves in his own stomach. Draco seemed to find his confidence though, maybe through wanting to prove he was in control, or maybe because he’d lost his patience.  
“Touch me” he whispered, voice sure.  
Harry didn’t need any more encouragement, and with that he leant down, licking a tentative stripe from the base of Draco’s cock to the tip.  
Draco let out a breathy ‘ah’ when Harry got to the tip, and his fingers gripped tighter in Harry’s hair.  
Harry swirled his tongue slowly around the head, using one hand to grip the base, and the other to grip Draco’s pointy hip, to inhibit the way he was desperately trying to push his dick between Harry’s lips.

Draco tasted clean and slightly bitter, and just so much like _him_ that it was almost intoxicating. Harry was so focused on the taste and feel of Draco against his tongue that he couldn’t even think of anything else. Draco moaned brokenly when Harry finally took him into his mouth, his fingers pulling at Harry’s hair urgently.  
“Ah, that’s so good” Draco moaned, and Harry moaned in response, it was too much to hear Draco’s voice so desperate and breathless, and like music to Harry’s ears.

Harry could feel his own cock aching with his need to be touched, twitching every time Draco keened, and he was again struck by how close he could get just from touching Draco and hearing Draco react to his touches.

Harry bobbed his head faster, trying to create as much suction as he could. He knew he was clumsy at it, never having done it with anyone but Draco, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The small whimpers of encouragement Draco offered were enough to keep away any self-consciousness he felt. And when he felt the tell-tale sign of Draco’s thighs tightening and his moans growing more broken, Harry brought his hand up to wrap around where his mouth couldn’t reach. It was only a few pumps of his hand alongside his mouth before Draco was letting out a choked sob and his cock was twitching and spurting into Harry’s mouth. Harry moaned low in his throat, trying to swallow as  
much of Draco’s come as he could, working him through his orgasm.

Harry slowly pulled off and ran his hands up and down Draco’s thighs lightly. Draco looked even more gorgeous than should be physically possible. His skin had a soft sheen to it, and he was breathing heavily, looking up at Harry with half-lidded eyes. Even his pale skin had a light flush to it, all the way from the tops of his cheeks right down to his chest.  
“You look amazing” Harry murmured. Draco smiled at him lazily, and then Harry was leaning down to place a slow, heated kiss to those lips he loved so much.

“Come here” Draco said softly, reaching out to pull at Harry’s shoulder until they were lying side by side facing each other, and then their lips were connected again.  
“I can taste myself on you” Draco whispered, his lips still brushing Harry’s. Harry had to hold back a moan just from the thought of it, and he was snaking a hand down into the gap between them so he could finally get a hand on himself.

“No, let me” Draco murmured, and then he was kissing Harry hard enough to make him see stars, his hand moving down to gasp Harry’s cock.  
“Fuck” Harry whimpered. He was already so close just from sucking Draco, and the overwhelming feeling of Draco’s lips against his, and his hand, firm and quidditch calloused, around his cock was just pushing him closer.

Harry was reaching out to get his hands on any part of Draco he could as they kissed, stroking down his sides, feeling the gentle curve of his arse. Suddenly, Draco was moving, and Harry opened his eyes in time to see Draco settling himself at eyelevel with his cock. Harry reached down, slipping his fingers into the silky strands of blonde hair, trying to resist rocking his hips forward.  
“Of course you’d have a great cock on top of everything else” Draco said, but there was no bitterness in his voice, just the light amusement that Harry had found himself getting used to hearing.  
“Please” Harry whimpered.  
“Please what?” Draco asked coyly.  
“I’m not begging, you dick!” Harry exclaimed, but his voice sounded desperate even to his own ears.  
Draco chuckled softly.  
“Ask me nicely” he said, ghosting his lips over the tip of Harry’s cock, and when Harry saw the precum there slick Draco’s lips, it was enough to make him ready to beg for anything.  
“Please, Draco” he whimpered. “Please suck me”  
Draco made a pleased sound, and then he was holding Harry’s eye contact as he leant further forward and slowly took Harry’s cock between his lips.

Harry couldn’t help but cry out. Those lips were even better than he’d ever imagined they’d feel, even softer and warmer than they felt when Harry kissed them.  
“Your fucking lips are going to kill me” Harry moaned, and he was sure he felt Draco smile around his cock. He resisted rocking his hips, letting Draco take control of it, choose the pace. The velvety heat of Draco’s mouth was driving Harry crazy, bringing him closer to the edge faster than he thought possible. He tightened his fingers in Draco’s hair, groaning softly when Draco moaned in response, every sound Draco made vibrated straight up his cock.

When Harry felt tentative fingers stroke across his balls, he spread his legs wantonly, not even finding it in himself to be embarrassed. He wanted everything Draco would give to him, wanted to experience everything he could with Draco. In fact, it was almost typical Draco was the first person he was having sex with, Draco was always his first everything. The first wizard his age he ever met, his first school rival, his first duel competitor, who he spent his first detention with. It was like everything they did involved the other, and Harry wouldn’t want his first time to be with anyone else.

Draco pulled off his cock slowly, and Harry was entranced by how slick and swollen his lips looked, he was sure he’d never seen anything more irresistible. Draco replaced his mouth straight away with his hand, stroking Harry’s spit slicked cock slowly but firmly, his mouth travelling down to Harry’s balls.

Draco licked the soft skin gently, before sucking one of them into his mouth. Harry let out a soft breath, who even knew that something as simple as having his balls sucked could feel so good? As Draco licked and sucked at them, Harry felt a fingertip brush lightly down the curve of his arse.  
“May I?” Draco asked softly, looking up at Harry for permission.  
Harry swallowed nervously, but nodded. He trusted Draco to be gentle, to make it good.  
Harry whispered a lubrication charm, and watched Draco’s eyes widen in surprise as his fingers immediately became slick.  
“Wandless” Draco murmured. “Do you know how much it turns me on when you do that? All that power”  
And with that, he was gently running his fingertip between Harry’s cheeks, pausing to swirl his finger around his hole. Harry’s mouth fell open at the sensation, and he let out a held breath.  
“You know, in class, whenever you’d do something no one else could do, or do something so powerful and not even bat an eyelid” -his finger traced back up to Harry’s balls, and then down again to his hole- “It made me so hot. I tried to tell myself I was annoyed because you were just looking for attention, but really I just wanted to do this”  
Harry gasped when the tip of Draco’s finger breached his body. The hand on his cock started moving again, so slowly and lightly, and the dual sensations were almost too much.

“Is that okay?” Draco asked.  
Harry swallowed and nodded quickly. He didn’t trust himself to speak, he wasn’t sure he would even be able to form words. He did know however, that he didn’t want Draco to stop.  
Draco smiled, his grey eyes bright and alive, and then he was pushing his finger in further, so slowly and carefully.  
“More” Harry whispered. He wanted to feel it, wanted to be full of nothing but Draco.  
“Impatient” Draco remarked, but then his finger was pushing deeper and curling and _oh_.  
“Fuck, Draco!” Harry moaned. When Draco’s finger pressed more firmly, Harry’s eyes rolled back. It felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. Draco’s hand slowed on his cock, and then he was leaning in again to mouth at the head.  
“Oh fuck” Harry choked. The feeling of Draco’s lips against his dick, and his finger pressing insistently against his prostate, was bringing his orgasm hurtling forward.

When Harry opened his eyes a little and leant up enough to look at Draco, he let out a groan. Draco looked amazing, like all Harry’s wet dreams put together, and more. He was kneeling there, one hand disappearing out of view where he was slowly fingering Harry open, and the other around the base of Harry’s cock. His face however, was a fucking masterpiece. His light eyelashes soft against his skin where his eyes were closed lightly, a tiny frown of concentration creasing the skin between his eyebrows, and then his lips, so red and slick, kissing and sliding over the head of Harry’s cock. Harry felt like he could come just from the sight of him.  
“I’m getting close” He murmured, not able to resist reaching down to feel the seam of Draco’s lips where his cock pressed in.  
“You’re so gorgeous” Harry moaned, and then Draco was humming in approval and that was all it took to push him over the edge. Harry felt his cock twitch against Draco’s lips, and his arse tighten around Draco’s slim finger with each spurt. Draco moaned softly as he took Harry’s come, swallowing neatly and quickly.

Harry shuddered as his orgasm passed, wincing at the feeling of Draco’s finger slowly sliding out of him. He couldn’t believe how empty he felt, even after just taking one finger. It made him wish he had something bigger, made him imagine how good Draco’s cock would feel, so warm and snug inside him.

“Come here” Harry murmured, still out of breath. Draco crawled up the bed until he could lay down next to Harry, and then he pulled the covers up and over them.  
“That was amazing” Harry whispered, leaning in to place a soft kiss against Draco’s lips. He knew what Draco had meant when he said he could taste himself in the kiss. Though under the slight bitterness of his own come, Draco tasted just as sweet and beautiful as ever.  
“I know it was amazing, you were sleeping with me after all” Draco whispered back, smiling smugly.  
Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t disagree. Instead he pressed his lips against Draco’s again, and they kissed lazily until Harry fell asleep with Draco in his arms.

 

* * *

  
The next morning, Harry awoke to the feeling of a warm body pressed up against him. His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted with the sight of a platinum head of hair in front of him.  
_Draco_ , he realised, and then he was relaxing and tightening his arms around Draco’s slender waist. Draco shifted and pressed closer, still sleeping soundly, and Harry felt warmth fill his chest. If he could wake up every morning like this, he was sure no day could start badly.

Harry let his fingers trace across Draco’s abdomen, and nuzzled his face into the soft hair at the nape of Draco’s neck.  
“Are you nuzzling me, Potter?” A quiet, sleepy voice asked. Draco had obviously woken up.  
“Yes” Harry replied, letting his lips trail down the side of Draco’s neck. He parted his lips slightly, letting his tongue trace Draco’s pulse point, where he could feel it fluttering under the skin.  
“Harry” Draco breathed, and he was pushing his arse back until it was flush against Harry’s hips.  
“Draco” Harry replied softly, shifting his pelvis until his morning erection was nestled between Draco’s cheeks. Draco let out a breathy sigh and rocked his hips slightly, which only made Harry dig his fingers into Draco’s hips, his other hand moving down to find Draco’s cock, solid and throbbing with need.

“Oh Merlin” Harry murmured, his fingers wrapping around Draco’s dick, slowly moving up and down, pausing to spread the precum leaking from the tip.  
“Use that fancy wandless lubricating charm again” Draco whispered, and Harry realised he had started moving his hips against Draco’s arse. He whispered the spell, and then slick was spreading against both their cocks, Harry’s hand suddenly moving easier around Draco, and his cock sliding between Draco’s cheeks with ease.

Harry didn’t push in, he knew they’d need more time, more preparation for that, instead he just let the head of his cock slide against Draco’s hole. The feel of the soft flesh of Draco’s arse against his cock was amazing, and when Draco relaxed more, Harry could feel the head of his cock catching slightly on Draco’s rim.  
“You feel so good” Harry moaned, his hand speeding up on Draco’s cock, and his hips rocking faster.  
“It’d feel even better if you fuck me” Draco whispered. He looked over his shoulder as much as he could, and Harry could see the desire and want in his eyes.  
“Are you sure, I could-“ Harry started.  
“I’m sure, I want to feel you” Draco said “I trust you”  
Harry’s heart felt like it could burst. He couldn’t decide if he was happy he was going to be inside Draco, or disappointed Draco wasn’t going to be inside him. Both options sounded equally incredible.

He moved so that Draco could lay down on his front, head pillowed on his folded arms. He spread his legs easily, and Harry shifted into the space between them. He cast a quick muffliato around the bed curtains in case anyone was in the dorm, and then he was reaching out to stroke his fingertips down Draco’s back. Draco shivered under the touch, and Harry couldn’t help but learn forward to press a soft kiss to Draco’s shoulder.

When Harry’s fingers first grazed over Draco’s hole, Draco shifted and turned his head so he could watch Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry was mesmerised by the sight of Draco spread out in front of him, and he used one hand to pull Draco’s cheeks apart. Draco sucked in a small breath when Harry ran his finger over the furled skin again, now fully exposed. He looked so good, and his wet little hole looked so inviting that Harry wanted to push inside straight away.

One the next slide of his finger against Draco’s arse, he pressed a bit firmer, and almost moaned when the tip of his finger dipped inside. Draco’s body was so hot and tight, even around his finger, and harry couldn’t imagine how good he’d feel around his cock.

“Get on with it” Draco moaned, shifting his hips up to pull more of Harry’s finger into his body. Harry pressed his finger in more, until his knuckles were flush against Draco’s arse.  
“Oh fuck” Draco whispered, and then Harry was curling his finger, drawing a loud moan from Draco’s throat. He was happy he’d cast that muffliato.

Harry slowly drew his finger out, before pressing it forward again, making sure to curl it on each in stroke. Draco was whimpering brokenly beneath him, trying to grind his cock against the bed as Harry slowly fucked his finger inside.  
“More” Draco said desperately, and the next time Harry pressed his finger forward, he eased another in alongside it. He watched Draco’s rim stretch around his fingers, and his cock twitched painfully, so eager to come. He scissored his fingers gently, trying to encourage Draco’s body to stretch for him, using his other hand to rub comforting circles on Draco’s back.

It was only a few moments later before Draco was asking for more again, and Harry was pressing in a third finger.  
“Oh fuck, oh, that’s so good” Draco moaned, he was desperately fisting the sheets, clenching and unclenching his fingers as Harry’s fingers opened him up. Harry could feel his own cock dripping down onto the bed where he was so ready to come, so turned on by the sight of Draco dishevelled and open beneath him, trusting Harry to be inside him.

Harry slowly slid his fingers out, and instead used his thumbs to spread Draco’s hole. Draco whined and pushed back.  
“I’m ready” Draco said, breathlessly. “Just fuck me already”  
“Turn over” Harry replied. Draco obliged, and Harry moaned when he saw how red and swollen Draco’s cock was, how turned on he was, too.  
“I want to see your face” Harry whispered, and then he was shuffling forward, and letting Draco’s legs rest over his thighs. In all honestly, Harry wasn’t sure how long this would last, he couldn’t even imagine how good Draco would feel.

Harry reached out and found Draco’s hand, gripping it tightly, and then used his other hand to line himself up. As he pressed his hips forward, Draco’s eyes clenched shut, and his mouth fell open when the head of Harry’s cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle.  
“Harry, Harry, fuck” Draco chanted, and Harry desperately tried to resist the urge to move, he wanted to give Draco a chance to adjust.  
“How does it feel?” Harry asked, leaning forward to brush his lips against Draco’s neck.  
“So full” Draco moaned. “But good. Better if you actually moved”  
Harry moved his pelvis forward painfully slowly, trying not to come straight away as all of his length was gripped in Draco’s tight heat.  
“Do you know how amazing you feel?” Harry groaned.  
“Show me” Draco replied, and then Harry was pulling out almost all the way before slowly pushing back in.

Draco’s body held him so tight, and he still hadn’t let go of Draco’s hand. It was sappy, but feeling this connected to someone was something else altogether, their bodies were physically joined. Harry watched Draco’s face closely, partially to check for any signs of pain, but mainly because he was the best thing Harry had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Draco’s eyes were closed tightly and his mouth was still hanging open slightly, head thrown back so his whole neck was exposed. Harry couldn’t help but lean down to mouth at his collarbone, rocking his hips a little faster at Draco’s light whimper.

Harry closed his lips over Draco’s collarbone and sucked lightly, and when he leant back there was blood blooming beneath the skin, and Harry liked the idea of Draco seeing that whenever he got undressed, that bruise in the shape of his lips.  
“Oh Merlin, Harry” Draco cried out, and Harry knew he’d got the angle right, Draco’s hand tightening in his, his other hand scrabbling and clenching at the bed sheets. Harry thrust in again, trying to keep the angle, trying to make Draco feel as good as he possibly could.

When Harry finally tore his eyes off Draco’s face for a moment, he glanced down to where their bodies were joined, and groaned. He couldn’t get over how hot it was to see his cock slipping in and out of Draco’s body, his tight little hole stretched and pink around him. Harry couldn’t resist brushing his finger over the rim, feeling his cock sliding inside. Draco whimpered, louder than before, and Harry felt his thighs clench. When he looked at Draco’s cock he could see it was wet and swollen, and twitching every time Harry hit his prostate.

Harry rocked his hips faster, feeling his orgasm catching up to him.  
“Fuck, Harry, harder!” Draco demanded, and Harry was pushing into him with more force, Draco groaning in relief.  
“Yeah, like that, I’m close! Draco cried, and then he was reaching for his dick, his other hand clenching rhythmically in Harry’s hand.  
“I’m not gonna last, Draco, fuck” Harry groaned, he could already feel his hips stuttering, so ready to come.  
“Don’t you fucking dare come before you get me off, Potter” Draco moaned, trying to glare through the dazed, sexed up look on his face. Harry just squeezed his hand and leant down to mouth at his neck again, he could feel Draco’s moans vibrating against his lips.  
“Fuck, Harry, I’m gonna come” Draco cried, and then his thighs were vice tight against Harry’s hips, and he was stiffening before crying out with a choked sob. Harry felt his come spread between their bodies, but it was the way Draco’s arse clamped down with each spurt that pushed Harry over the edge. He cried out Draco’s name once more before he was coming inside him, feeling his legs shaking and stars behind his eyes.

As soon as he stopped coming, he was slumping down on the bed beside Draco, casting a quick wandless cleaning charm so he could rest his head against Draco’s chest. He could hear Draco’s heart, still fluttering quickly, and Harry knew his heart mirrored it.  
“You’re incredible, you know” Harry murmured, and he didn’t give a fuck if that was cheesy.  
“I know” Draco replied, smugly. Wrapping his arms around Harry securely.  
“You-“ Draco paused, the smugness gone from his voice “I’ve wanted this for so long”  
Harry glanced up at his face, and Draco almost looked emotional. Draco glared when he caught Harry looking, and schooled his expression to neutral again, but Harry could see the spark behind his eyes, could almost feel the happiness radiating off him. Harry smiled at him softly, and leant in to kiss him gently.  
“I know” Harry whispered, and Draco rolled his eyes and smiled against Harry’s lips.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, when they’d finally managed to drag themselves out of bed, Hermione was waiting with news.  
“So McGonagall sent news about Dennis” she announced, when they finally came down the stairs into the common room. Even as she spoke she looked between them knowingly, as though she knew what had transpired. Harry chose not to say anything; he would talk about it to her and Ron later. For now, it was more important to hear what had happened with Dennis.  
“So Dennis admitted everything” Hermione said. Harry felt Draco sag slightly with relief beside him, at least neither of them would have to fight to prove Draco’s innocence now.  
“He’s been suspended” she added.  
“Suspended!?” Draco demanded, outraged. “He should be expelled! He could have killed Harry”  
Ron glanced up from the sofa, where he was playing chess with Blaise again.  
“Oh, Harry is it? How adorable” he teased. Blaise sniggered.  
“Shut it, Weasel” Draco snapped, and to Harry’s shock, Ron just laughed. Previously, there would have been a huge fallout if Draco had called him that.

“ _Anyway_ ” Hermione said loudly, bringing the conversation back on topic. “He’s been suspended, and I agree that it’s not enough, but McGonagall said it was because he is still hurting after losing Colin and it probably clouded his judgement”  
Harry nodded, even though Draco didn’t look utterly convinced.  
“He was trying to protect you, in his own way” Hermione said, “Not that that excuses it”  
“I don’t need protecting from Draco” Harry insisted.  
“You don’t need to tell us that” Hermione reassured.  
“Yeah, even if you have bad taste in boyfriends, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like anyone bad” Ron agreed.  
“Wait, you know we made it official?” Harry asked.  
Ron looked bemused. “Well it was gonna happen wasn’t it?”  
Harry loved his friends for just accepting it so easily, even if Ron still wound Draco up. After all, it would be a bit weird without at least a _tiny_ bit of animosity between them.  
“Potter here couldn’t resist me” Draco declared. Harry swatted him playfully, and Ron made a sick noise.  
“God, I’ll have to put up with this now, won’t I?” Ron asked.  
“Yes” Harry replied, pulling Draco in for a kiss, ignoring Ron’s sick noises and Hermione and Blaise’s laughter.

 

* * *

  
News spread of their new boyfriend status pretty quickly, and no-one seemed that surprised, especially the eighth years, who’d been there over the years witnessing their rivalry. Seamus had smacked Harry on the back as soon as he saw him.  
“Finally!” He’d exclaimed. Dean had congratulated Harry, and even Neville who Harry hadn’t been sure would be okay with it told Harry that as long as he was happy, so was he. Luna had grabbed both Harry and Draco into a joint hug, and asked when the wedding was, at which Hermione had burst into laughter. Ginny had hugged Harry and told him she was happy for him, and even whispered that she might soon be dating someone too, Luna to be exact.

Harry was really touched by his friends’ acceptance and kindness, and the way that they made an effort to include Draco as well. Draco looked shocked every time someone hugged him or shook his hand, and his expression was hilarious. It was even funnier when Parkinson rushed up to him and flung her arms around him.  
“Oh Darling, how long have you been pining over Potter here, since you were thirteen?”  
Draco managed to look highly unfazed, but Harry noticed the slight flush high in his cheeks.  
Before Draco could tell her off though, Hermione was butting in.  
“Oh yeah, we’ve been waiting for this for about three years” she agreed. Parkinson cackled at the expression on he and Draco’s faces. Draco looked subtly smug and overjoyed, and Harry was almost too happy himself to be embarrassed.

The common room dynamics changed slightly too. Now in the evenings, Harry and Draco sat together, and because Draco was with Harry, generally Zabini and Parkinson would join them too. Ron and Blaise maintained the strange silent chess truce they seemed to have created, and Hermione and Pansy had Harry and Draco’s previous obliviousness to laugh about together. It seemed that Harry and Draco finally becoming an item had broken down that last remaining barrier between the old houses, and even though he and Draco still got a few dirty looks in the halls from people who wouldn’t let the past go, generally it finally seemed like time had moved on as much as was possible. It felt to Harry like a new leaf had been turned. Harry was still aware that when the Prophet got hold of the story there would be trouble, and he still wasn’t sure what the other Weasley’s and Draco’s mother would say, but that was something they could face together when it happened.

Harry even pulled Hermione to one side the next day.  
“Look, this is a little embarrassing, but I want to thank you for starting those games nights, ‘Mione. Without that, I don’t think I would have realised how I felt about Draco”  
Hermione smiled sweetly.  
“You don’t think I suggested them _just_ for house unity, did you?” she asked innocently.  
“That’s almost slytherin, ‘Mione!” Harry exclaimed, but he laughed. Hermione always saw through him, and he did have to admit that it had worked. Not only were he and Draco now together, but the eighth years were closer than ever before.  
“You know, we have another games night tomorrow” Hermione announced, and Harry wasn’t as apprehensive as he would have been before, not now he knew he had Draco beside him, although he didn’t like the idea of having to kiss other people.

That night, when he used his wandless lubrication charm so that Draco could push inside him for the first time, in between their moans and whispered breathes, he realised exactly how he would make sure he didn’t have to share his kisses with anyone else. He wouldn’t want his lips against anyone other than Draco. And when Draco stilled and pulsed inside him, whispering something that sounded beautifully like “I love you” Harry knew he wouldn’t want anything more than Draco for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

“This is interesting” Seamus declared. They were all sat around in the usual circle, firewhisky in hand, and Harry was kissing Draco again, just like he had every time it had been his turn to spin the bottle.  
“It’s almost as though someone is casting wandless charms to move the bottle” Seamus finished, looking at Harry and Draco sceptically as their lips separated. Harry tried to look innocent, and shrugged his shoulders.  
“What makes you think that?” he asked, innocently.  
“Maybe the fact that a moment ago the bottle clearly landed on Neville, and then it started moving again and conveniently landed on Malfoy”  
Draco snorted beside him. He had caught Harry doing it straight away, and then he’d leant over and asked quietly if Harry would do it for his turns too, Harry of course had been more than happy to oblige.  
“I don’t think you should accuse Harry here of anything Finnigan, he is The Golden Boy after all” Draco said.  
“Yes, I would never do that” Harry added, seriously. Ron actually burst out laughing, and spluttered that that was the biggest load of rubbish he’d ever heard and that Harry would _definitely_ do that. Soon everyone was laughing, and the game ended up dissolving into chatter and more alcohol than they should be drinking, spirits high and new friendships being formed.  
Harry glanced over at Draco, and caught him already looking. Harry couldn’t help smiling, Draco was smirking, his eyes bright and happy, hand warm in Harry’s, and Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with contentment and love. Seeing that mirrored in Draco’s eyes just made Harry’s heart clench harder, and as they sat there in a common room full of love and friendship and promise, Harry suddenly felt like some of the scars had healed, like maybe the old Gryffindor common room wasn’t the only place that could feel like home.

 _The End_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I made all of this up, and I'm not making any profit from it. JK Rowling and Bloomsbury own all the rights to the Harry Potter world.
> 
> I always appreciate feedback, and if people like this I might write an epilogue. Thank you for reading!  
> You can leave feedback here, or on my tumblr: harryptter.tumblr.com ✨


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